


An Allied Enemy

by Yel_Ashaya



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Bajoran Submission, F/M, Occupation of Bajor, Sexual Assault, Starvation, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 07:16:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 29
Words: 48,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yel_Ashaya/pseuds/Yel_Ashaya
Summary: Sito Jaxa was not killed when her shuttle exploded. She was taken to a Cardassian penal colony, where she relives the Occupation, battling hunger, inequality and abuse. She thinks all hope is lost, until she is rescued by an unlikely saviour. She struggles to realise that she is falling in love with her captor and her saviour. Picard recruits Joret Dal and attempts to locate Sito.(Originally published on fanfiction.net, where I'm called 'Yel Ashaya')Disclaimer: Star Trek, except my OCs, is not mine (sadly)





	1. Introduction

**This might not make sense if you have not yet seen the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode 'Lower Decks' (s7ep15)**

Sito Jaxa was sat in Ten Forward. The stars outside the floor-to-ceiling windows were nothing but streaks in the sky that seemed to be in a perpetual state of night, of excitement, of adventure. Also, Sito knew, of danger.

During the Occupation, that was when she had gotten her first real sense of danger. She had been captured by the Cardassians, as had all her friends and most of her family. The night on Bajor would fall ever so quickly. The chill of the air would sting her neck. The birds would cease singing and chirping; their merry songs becoming nothing but solemn memories. Memories of times that seemed to be oh so long ago. Periods of time that were talked about by her grandparents. Fifty years ago, they would say, I remember when this was all greenery. Lush hills and bushes; vibrant fields and farms dotted with the occasional domesticated animal; bright blue ponds and rivers which would reflect the greenish tinted atmosphere of Bajor's intriguing atmosphere. The air would be pure. The oxygen, the nitrogen, would glide past one's throat, and the water itself would be like ichor.

As she pondered ever deeper what her grandparents used to tell her – the tales of what her beautiful homeworld was  _once_ like, she started to realise what it was that she was missing. Bajor, as she knew it, was a peaceful world. The people there had laws and regulations and a justice system. However, the invaders, they had destroyed it _all._ At first, Sito just wanted something – some _one_  – to blame for all of it. The very first Bajoran space travels, who left their planet a thousand years before their human allies had even considered leaving their cradle. Before Earth-dwellers even  _knew_ what a star was. Whether or not the planets were round. That the stars were massive balls of gas, and  _not_ fixed points denoting mystical things. Sito decided she  _could_ blame  _them_  – the ancestors of hers who had chosen in the first place to make contact with the aliens.

Their gods had given them the technology. The Prophets had been so gracious and intelligent and wise as to bequeath the people of Bajor the correct technology and know-how which would make them a space-faring race. One of the first light-speed ships from Bajor, which used a standard version of beamed propulsion: a solar sail, launched when Europe of Earth was still engaged in wars fought with iron and steel; when humanity was wrought with blemishes of moral conflicts and numerous crusades. The Bajorans had never suffered so. They had their gods to guide them. To lead them. To direct them into the correct path. The Way of the Prophets.

That particular ship made contact with the Cardassians. Those reptilian aliens had barely even become  _aware_ of the fact that there was other life out there, among the stars, all through the vast and exciting cosmos. That decision stayed with little or no consequences to be seen for almost a thousand years. Yet, for a world like Bajor, which evolved little in terms of technology (for if something new was required, the Prophets would surely see to their needs), a millennium is very little time.

By the time the early twenty fourth century had rolled into being, the Cardassians were beginning to get stronger than ever. One ambitious young officer, named Gul Dukat, was at the centre of the major operations. Sito had never met the Gul, and quite frankly, she was very glad that she had not. He didn't sit well with her. But, then again, as she thought more,  _no_ Cardassians sat well with her. At least,  _very few_ did.

What she also knew, though, was that she was one of the lucky ones – in a strange sort of way. She wasn't dead. She was alive and fit and healthy. She had survived the Occupation of Bajor, and whilst she was devoid of the physical scars, she surely had the mental scars to prove it. The endless flashbacks. The dreams that were with so much depth that they almost seemed… real. The way her heart would skip a beat – and  _not_ in a good way – whenever she saw a Cardassian walk by.

And,  _now,_ there was a damn Spoonhead on the  _same_ ship as her. She had come to the life-changing decision of joining Starfleet because of the adventure, the quality, and the exciting element of danger that it brought with it. On board the  _Enterprise,_ she knew she would be tested to her absolute limits. Her actions would be questioned. Her commanding officers would be strict. She had been subjected mostly to that at the hands of her teacher, Lieutenant Worf. When the  _Enterprise_ docked with Starbase 47, she could remember how overwhelmed she felt when she caught sight of the myriad of alien species that were always swarming around her.

The only species that Sito had seen had been Bajorans – of course, and that strangely driven, courageous, interesting species; humans. The rest of the populous of Bajor shared the wondrous image of humankind that Sito Jaxa held. Humanity always seemed to strive to better themselves. To push themselves beyond what had previously been defined as their limits. In the space of  _only_ two hundred years, humanity had advanced beyond any decent man's comprehension. One hundred years before mankind developed warp drive and unified as a planet and engaged in First Contact with the Vulcans, one of the world's leaders had delivered a speech. 'We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are  _hard.'_ This Kennedy individual was a true leader, Sito knew, even if she wasn't sure  _who_ she was. Only fifty years before the moon landings, had humankind began experimenting with powered air-flight. She couldn't help but think – and wondered whether or not it was blasphemy – if Bajor would have been different, and how it would have been different, had they not found the Way of the Prophets. However, in the end, she would remind herself that her people would be simple folk, without an enlightened soul. Without hope.

The other species which she had had the pleasure –  _displeasure_ – of seeing, were obviously the Cardassians. The Federation themselves first knew of the Cardassians, infamous for their ruthless governing, leadership, military and torture methods, at least around 2150. The Cardassians had taken advantage of the calm, reserved and peaceful Bajorans, and thrust the unaware species into war and upset and inequality, of which they had no prior knowledge, let alone experience.

A year after the Occupation had ended, Bajoran, quadrant-wide and even galactic views of the Cardassian people were still reasonably sour. Many days, weeks, months to recuperate from the horrors of the enslavement, execution and rape of their world, and Bajorans were still finding it hard to accept the Cardassians into their lives.

Sito was conflicted. She didn't know how to be feeling at that moment in time. Whether she should feel disgusted with herself. Horrified. Hateful. Contemptuous. She did not know. On the other hand, she didn't know for sure if having a sense of pride and happiness was acceptable in the circumstances. For, she was, in a way, creating a bridge between her people and the Cardassians. In a round-about sort of way, she could demonstrate to her fellow Bajorans that the Cardies were not  _all_ to be afraid of.

What was that quote that Sam had been telling her? Ensign Lavelle often graced her ears with tales of his homeworld. And, while he did not really appear as one who would be synonymous with the book-reading type, Sito could tell that he was educated, and not simply in the technical sense. 'You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view… Until you climb into his skin and walk around in it'. That was true, she knew, for the Bajorans, regarding their prejudice of the Cardassian people as a whole. Just because a portion of a race had done wrong, it does not make it necessarily the correct course of action to take, if one were to attach that stereotype to ever member of the species.

She had not yet met the Cardassian with whom she was supposed to meet in the shuttlecraft. Whom she was to spend quite a reasonable amount of time with. A Bajoran woman with a male Cardassian, alone in the same shuttlecraft for hours – possibly days, with the craft's less than exceptional warp engines – that idea she was not particularly fond of.

Captain Picard had briefed her, of course, as was always and would always be customary when a member would be going off on a mission. The French captain had informed her of what troubles she was likely to face during the journey, though he made it clear that he couldn't prepare her for  _everything._ This Cardassian, as far as she was told anyway, was not a military man. Perhaps he  _had_ been. Once. He was a  _defector,_ now, though. He was a double-agent. One who was assisting the Federation. And, the Federation were allies of Bajor.

Sifting through her memories, Sito recalled the Cardassian's face. He was a Cardassian, all right, but somehow… different. Maybe he was just a little shaken up since being retrieved from that escape pod, she supposed, only half believing it herself. Joret, his name was. Joret Dal. She couldn't even bear to think of the last time when she had seen a Cardassian  _that_ close. She remembered how she felt when she looked around the observation lounge, noticing the plaintive expression of the other officers; her seniors.

As she turned her head away from the large window, she found herself staring into the bottom of her cup. Spending so much time with Lieutenant Worf had left her subject to numerous Klingon ways. The cup of raktajino that she now had in her hands was testament to that.

A disturbance in the air became apparent and she looked up to see those who had become her friends and most trusted colleagues during her short time as a security officer on board the majestic Starship  _Enterprise._ Taurik, Sam, and Ben approached and took a seat at the table.

It was silent for a short while, before anyone found a reason to speak. "Nice table," Sam remarked, with a thin smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "How did you get here so early?"

For a moment, Sito considered the question that had been put to her. It was true that the tables that were enclosed in booth-like areas were usually only occupied by higher ranking staff members. "Captain Picard wished to speak with me," Sito replied blandly, looking him in the eye.

Sam frowned a little. "What about?" he asked. As ever, he was the one with the pressing questions. Whether it was about poker or starship operations, Sam Lavelle most often had something to either say or ask about the topic. And, Sito's whereabouts and how she managed to bag the appealing place in Ten Forward were not free from Sam's questioning and curious nature.

Sito blinked and then finished her Klingon coffee – at as slow a speed as possible. The longer time that she spent drinking, she figured, the less likely the possibility would be that she would have to reveal the information to her friends. "I've got a mission," she answered him coolly.

Across the table, the young Vulcan raised an eyebrow. It made Sito wonder for a brief moment if that little movement was the only response that Taurik was capable of giving. Still, she had to give it to him, he was a little more… liberated than other Vulcans were. Then again, she hadn't seen any other Vulcans other than Taurik. Romulans didn't really count. "What is the mission for?" Taurik asked, clearly interested, but with the ever-lasting plain expression on his tanned face.

Sito felt herself stiffen in her chair. Resisting the building urge to come out with some ridiculous, spontaneous lie, she decided to tell all. "The Captain," she began slowly. "He's appointed me to accompany a—" she coughed "– Cardassian defector to Cardassia Prime."

"A  _Cardassian_ defector?" Ben quizzed her, lifting an eyebrow. He was hovering over them, so that Guinan would still think he was attending to his duties as a waiter.

Sito nodded, not wanting to make the matter bigger than it already was. "Keep your voice down," she warned him.

Ben bowed his head a little. "Yeah, sorry," he said quietly.

With a smile to show her acceptance of his apology, she spread her hands on the table. "Guys, you need to keep this low. If  _too_ many people find out about the mission, things could get ugly." She scanned each of their faces. "This is top secret."

Sam grinned and then let loose a short laugh. "Top secret, eh?" he quipped. Sito managed to ignore him. "When is the mission going to take place?" he then asked her.

She shrugged a little. "Today," she murmured.

"When today?" the three of them spoke simultaneously, like some sort of speaking choir.

"An hour."


	2. Welcome and Unwelcome Conversations

**Some of the dialogue is taken from the TNG episode 'Lower Decks'.**

As Sito Jaxa stood in the main shuttlebay of the majestic flagship of the Federation, she couldn't help but look around the place. Stood with her were Geordi La Forge and Mr Worf.

She felt Geordi's eye fall on her and she looked up in response. Smiling, she replied, lifting her hair up to show him, "The Captain asked Doctor Crusher to make it look like Joret had mistreated me." She took her hand away, and her blonde hair fell back into its usual position. As she spoke those words, she could not help but wonder how long her makeup would last. If the Cardassians somehow figured out that she was not really Joret Dal's prisoner, and they noticed that the bruising on her face was fake… She shook her mind of those questions, however hard it may have been. She was a Starfleet Officer. She was Bajoran.

Geordi nodded, as if approving of the Doctor's skilful handiwork. "We're all set here," he announced, before leaving the main shuttlebay of the  _Enterprise._

As soon as the Chief Engineer had left the hangar, Sito turned to face Worf. She looked up, attempting to look the colossal Klingon in the eye. "Sir," she began gratefully, "I want you to know that I really appreciate the fact that you've always had confidence in me." A smile graced her lips.

Worf nodded his head, as stern and stoic as always. Yet, that stony expression was fractured for a little moment. "Good luck," he replied curtly.

"I'll see you soon," Sito called out to him as she left to enter the shuttlecraft.

The shuttlecraft seemed so much smaller than what she had remembered from her memories of previous journeys in shuttlecraft. Putting one foot on the platform which would bring her fully inside the shuttlecraft, Sito stopped for a fraction of a second. Was it the right thing to do? Captain Picard hadn't ordered her on this mission. It was dangerous. It was  _very_ dangerous. She had volunteered. Therefore, she only had herself to blame.

She hopped into the seat to the left and caught sight of Joret out of the corner of her eye. His grey fingers moved so quickly on the console, and he turned to face her.

She cleared her throat, quietly.

"I see your Doctor has made you look like a more… convincing prisoner," he said. It wasn't the first time she had heard him speak, but it might as well have been the case. The two of them were alone and that was perhaps the thing that scared her… no,  _alarmed_  her the most. In the observation lounge, which seemed to her like days rather than hours ago, she was surrounded by her colleagues; Picard, Riker, Worf.

Stiffly, she nodded. Her mood mellowing, but not of her own accord, she keyed in the calculations and commands that were necessary for pre-flight checks. "Impressed?" she asked abruptly, pointing to her fake bruises.

She saw him smile. Briefly. "It is very convincing," he told her.

As the shuttlecraft lifted up out of the main shuttlebay, the artificial gravity in the hangar became distant. The doors slid open and the decompression began. The shuttlecraft exited the shuttlebay, powering up its forward thrusters, and promptly began gliding comfortably into space. The vacuum engulfed them, and the darkness of night was interjected with millions – billions – of flecks of light, as they dotted the skies and seemed to almost dance in the reflection produced by the windows.

"Warp four?" Sito said, though her statement quickly morphed into a sort of question. It was, after all,  _his_ homeworld that they were to travel to, even though it was a Federation craft.

Briskly, he nodded, without looking up.

Sito was as educated as she needed to be regarding the running and operation of a shuttlecraft, having had no choice but to learn it at the Academy. However, she was a  _security_ officer,  _not_ an engineer. Versed though she was, it wasn't as good as it could have been. She stretched her fingers, in as discreet a way as possible, and then commanded the ship to reach warp factor four.

The movement as the small, snug craft accelerated from sublight to warp speed was negligible. It ran smoothly and efficiently and the atmosphere of the craft was silent for some time.

"I must say," said Joret. "These Federation shuttlecraft are much more agreeable than the ones of my people."

Sito looked at him and smiled. "I have heard that Cardassian ships are not particularly… nice," she explained.

Joret frowned, his eyeridges almost drawing together. "How do you know what Cardassian ships are like?" he asked, genuinely confused. Then, it hit him. "Sorry," he quickly apologised, keeping his head down. He wondered how he had somehow forgotten that this woman had been involved in the Occupation of Bajor – obviously. She would have been subjected to Cardassan architecture all the time.

"No, it's all right," she countered sweetly. She reached up to touch the cheek which Doctor Crusher had so expertly decorated with replica cuts and bruises.

Briefly, Joret watched the movement, before turning back to the running of the shuttle, which, really, involved very little. Once the craft –  _any_ craft – was travelling warp speed, all that was required of the helm crew was to monitor readings in the warp core and coils, to check the regulation of the dilithium crystals, and ensure that the warp field was stable. All of those important, vital things were displayed on the brightly coloured Federation console mat in front of Joret and Sito.

He tapped his fingers on the screen, making a random, quiet tune. Sito studied him – and not only out of the corner of her eye – he looked out of place. Well, she supposed, of  _course_ he looked out of place. A  _Cardassian_ willingly on a  _Federation_ shuttle. Still, the feeling would not leave her. The Cardassian seemed perplexed or worried or frustrated.

Biting her lip, Sito rubbed her nose ridges.

Becoming aware of the eerie silence in the shuttle, which could only have been described as awkward, Joret spoke. "ETA is… two hours."

Sito resisted, more or less, the temptation to wince at the sound of his words. An Estimated Arrival Time of two hours. That meant  _two hours_ of nothing but uncomfortable silence as they trundled through the vacuum of space, with nothing but the stars and  _each other_ for company. And, the way things were looking, balls of stellar gas and burning hydrogen seemed to be the best bet for a conversation partner.

Idly, she fiddled with a strand of her hair. "Unless you have any objections," she said softly, "I'm going to get some sleep." To both her regret and her annoyance, she had not slept the night before.

"By all means," he said with an agreeing nod. Not that she needed his approval anyway. She was  _posing_ as his prisoner; she wasn't his prisoner.

With that, she turned over in her chair, so that she was staring not at the streaming stars in the interstellar bubble, but at the plain white inner hull of the shuttle. With a surprising amount of ease, she drifted off to sleep.

The Bajoran officer awoke ninety minutes later. Rubbing her eyes delicately with one finger, careful not to disturb the layer of injury makeup she had had applied to her, she sat up straight.

Detecting her minute movement, he announced, "We'll be in Cardassian space soon."

She pursed her lips. "How long?"

He brought up the flight plan on the computer screen. Reading it out to her, he said, "Approximately twenty minutes."

 _Twenty minutes,_ Sito mused. Such a seemingly short amount of time. In less than merely half an hour, she would be in the airspace of her species' most feared enemies. That very thought alone was more than enough to make her shudder.

"We are approaching the border," he announced to her, a few minutes later. Sito had forgotten, and indeed so did he, how quickly a journey would fly past in a warp-capable ship. He continued focusing his primary attentions toward the computer display, for which she was partially thankful. "It won't be long before we're detected by the patrol ships."

Sito's bottom lip began to waver. Then, she forced the Starfleet officer side of her to cause the paranoid, scared, prejudiced Bajoran part of her to fall back. "If we get stopped," she began measuredly "… by the patrol ships, do you want me to say anything?"

Joret considered rather deeply for the moment. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, so nod words found their way out. "No," he finally decided to say, looking up at her with his sky-blue eyes. "It should seem that I've broken your will." He scanned her form and noticed how ill she was starting to look.

Sito couldn't help but wonder whether or not agreeing to the mission was necessarily the correct thing to do. Sure, it would look great on her record.  _A Bajoran Starfleet officer putting aside the troubles and stigmas of the past to help get a Cardassian man home._ But, what good would it do her if she was found by the Cardassians and killed? If Joret, too, was killed? Those thoughts were not so easy to discard. They followed her even as she tried to change the subject matter.  _Broken your will._ Those words of Joret, kind though he was, echoed through her mind with a force so strong that it scared her.

Instantly, she was brought back to the Occupation. To the men yelling; the women screaming; the children crying. The harsh sound of the Cardassian soldiers' boots as they hit the equally harsh ground. The all too common stench of malnutrition and disease and the air of despair that would seep about all around them. The way the elderly would be buried alive because they were too old and too sick to work. The way women would be raped in front of their families. The way men were beaten to a bloody pulp with such severity that their wives could no longer recognise them.

"They shouldn't ask  _you_ any questions," she heard Joret inform her helpfully. His face hardened, as if he were almost uncomfortable. "Should they ask you anything, look at me…" he trailed off, losing track of his words. She looked at him. "…As though you are… afraid of me," Joret then finished.

Sito double-checked her computer display, which showed on it the general and customary screenshot for the helmsman. Trajectory. Heading. Speed. Warp factor. "Can I ask you something?"

Joret stopped tapping the console and knitted his brow. He wondered what she could possibly have to ask him.

"Why  _are_ you doing this?" she elaborated on her question.

"Doing what?" he said incredulously.

"I mean," she continued, "Why are you risking your life to help Starfleet?"

Joret frowned, but only a little. It was a movement that more denoted he was formulating an answer in his head, than it was one which showed disapproval or worry. "I don't consider myself a traitor, if that's what you're asking," he said, his voice a little tight.

Sito nodded and thought of something to say, but nothing sprang to mind.

"All my life I've served in the military. Once it was an institution dedicated to the security of Cardassia, now it's little more than a platform for ambitious Guls hoping to make their reputations in battle," he said derisively. He paused and then continued, "If the information I provided helps Starfleet deter even _one_  pointless skirmish, I've served my purpose." He looked at her, almost into her eyes. "I'm sick of war. My people need peace."

A smile crept across Sito's lips. "I never thought I'd hear a Cardassian say something like that," she told him, genuinely alarmed, but more pleased and… proud. A Cardassian wanting peace… Now,  _that_ was something which she didn't even dream she would live to hear. His tone, though, was so very convincing. He wasn't scheming or trying to turn her views into his favour. He had meant what he'd said.

Joret glanced ahead as the ship came out of warp and settled into the slower, impulse power. The shuttle barely jolted. After all, it only made sense that Starfleet's best ship would have its best shuttlecraft. "And I never thought a Bajoran would risk her life to help a Cardassian get home," he remarked, his expression softening, but still reasonably plaintive.

But, before Sito could comment on how much he had surprised her with his words and his actions, an alarm sounded in the shuttle. She clicked off the annoying master warning. The sound stopped and silence fell once again. "Patrol ships moving in on our position," she informed her Cardassian companion as he stared at her with a confused look on his face; obviously he did not know what the alarm denoted.

Joret jumped a little in his seat, in response to her announcement. He picked up the handcuffs and gestured to them. For a tiny moment, he did nothing. Quickly, though, he called for Sito to outstretch her arms, and he shackled her wrists. "We don't have much time until they get here," he told her.

Sito retracted her arms from him and winced in discomfiture. The shackles weren't what one would call painful, but they sure were uncomfortable. The metal was too cold and it rubbed against her skin.

 _"_ _Federation vessel,"_ the voice came over the comm.  _"You are in Cardassian space."_ The voice was etched with foreboding sternness. " _Identify yourself and your intentions."_

A muscle, Sito saw, in Joret's jaw twitched. He reached out to press the button which would open up a channel between their craft and the Cardassian one.

Sat beside him, Sito fumbled as much she could wearing the abominable handcuffs, and tried to calm her appearance.

"This is Joret Dal," Joret informed the Cardassian patrol ship, his voice not even touching the realms of wavering.

 _"_ _Why are you in a Federation vessel?"_  the same voice demanded, starting to sound as though they were incredulous.

"They're suspicious," Sito whispered to Joret. "Perhaps you should open a visual link."

Joret nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "I know," he muttered. He opened a visual link, and the Cardassian patrol ship responded to the hail. And, so, Joret began to explain to the patrol ship and her crew his cover story. "I was captured by a Federation ship," he explained to them. "I escaped and…" his voice faded out as he glanced at Sito.

On the other side of the commlink, on the small computer monitor, the patrol ship commander nodded musingly. He looked as if he were considering the matter.  _"Understood,"_  he finally decided.  _"You will continue on course to Cardassia Prime."_

The screen went black.


	3. Good Luck

Cardassia Prime sure was a poor old planet. The world looked dull and deserted from orbit. On the viewscreen and out of the windows of the not-so-spacious shuttlecraft, Sito could quite easily make out the various canyons and cliffs and mountainous ranges that decorated the planet's Southern Hemisphere. However above the equator, there seemed to be more a great deal more life. Well, one says life, but perhaps it is not the wisest of word choices that could have been made.

The air was blisteringly hot and the buildings were harshly built. The architecture of the people of Cardassia – a design which Sito Jaxa had seen far too much of in her short life – was sharp and jagged, and consisted primarily of regular, edged shapes. There were often curves jutting dominantly out of the vast majority of the buildings, and the colour of them varied little. Drab though it was, it was different. Certainly nothing like Bajor; a lush world dotted with beautiful villages and green trees. At least, what was.

Sito was sat down in the front seat of the shuttle, but felt as though she should stand up. And so, she did just that. Joret Dal was already on his feet, readying himself for beam out. He was to transport himself to the surface.

She looked at him – half out of curiosity and half out of perplexity. "What will you say to that captain, when he notices that I'm – I mean, your prisoner – isn't with you?" she asked him, referring to the patrol ship captain who had hailed them not that long ago.

Joret shrugged. "I'll think of something," he then suggested. "Anyway… I may just say that you managed to escape." He frowned, thinking those words together. A weak, naïve, young Bajoran woman managing to successfully overpower and overcome her strong, courageous Cardassian captor. That certainly did not seem particularly likely. "That captain is unlikely to ever make contact with us – me – again," Joret then told her. "Judging by the class of his ship and its heading, I'd say he would be out of the system now."

That reassured her. "Good," she said after some time, her tone small and breathless. She stepped over to the side, so she was standing at the transporter console. Bending over a little, she watched the screen. Tapping the LCARS display, she typed in the appropriate coordinates, which she had had been given by Joret. She nodded to the two-person-at-a-time transporter platform, and Joret readily took his place on one of the low podiums.

Sito completed the workings-out. She looked up at him. "Ready?" she asked, trying to smile.

Something about Joret's mood looked nonchalant, but Sito could tell that he was anxious about something. She guessed that it was probably to do with returning to his homeworld – the world that he had been raised on, where he lived, but also the world whose most important and delicate secrets he was giving away to the Federation.

After surviving the Occupation, Sito had learned how to differentiate the feelings of people. Especially the negative ones. Emotions that were situated on the positive, the plus-side of the scale, she was not so good at interpreting. Dread. Anger. Despair. Desperation. Neglect. Worry. Mourning. Nothing could've escaped her life at that moment. Nothing.

The Cardassian took a while and then hesitantly, he nodded at her. Achieving eye-contact for a negligible, but poignant moment, he grinned uncomfortably. "Ready."

Sito smiled and pressed the final key. "Energise." It sure felt different when it was her saying it.

And then, she was alone in a shuttlecraft in Cardassian space. Cardassian space, of all locations. Hell, she'd take being in a Klingon cell or a Vulcan seminar on 'What it means to be logical' over that scenario any day.

She returned to her seat and found herself absently rubbing her wrists. The shackles, though they had only been fastened around her for a short while, did cause her some degree of harm. They itched and the skin was getting irritated. Pulling her mind away from that distraction, she began the necessary checks that would be required for the shuttle to successfully leave orbit.

She was due to meet the U.S.S. Enterprise at a spot only a lightyear out of the Cardassians' main system. That brought them still under the influence of the Cardassian star; the heliosheath. The shuttle's engines whined as it left orbit. Or, at least, they would have whined if they even had the slightest of chances to remove the craft from orbit.


	4. Taken Away

The next thing Sito knew was that there was a beeping sound coming from the main computer console. She stretched over to it and began maniacally trying to counter the ringing noise. The warning beep died down, but the siren was slightly ringing in her ears. She rubbed her nose and simply stared in horror at the sight she saw next.

Three Cardassian patrol ships were hovering in front of her shuttle. She settled back into her seat and stared; aghast. Adrenaline began to kick in and it powered her forward. She raised shields and powered up her photon torpedoes – just in case. Firing even the smallest of rounds at a Cardassian ship in Cardassian space – from a Federation vessel – would be a death sentence for the firer. However, she needed the reassurance. The reassurance that salvation would only be the press of a button away.

Years of training at the Academy had taught her that a shuttle was no match for a Cardassian ship, even if that ship happened to be a lowly patrol vessel. She had no chance, unless the Prophets came to her. She prayed.

A computer displayed her worst nightmare to her. They were firing up weapons, and not only because they had noticed her doing the same. They were aiming. And… they fired. The shuttle's comparatively weak hull shuddered and shook, and Sito realised that she was flying all over the place. The stars became mad blurs, and this time, she wasn't at warp when the stellar bodies streaked and streamed across the windows.

She daren't even think what the temperature of the outer hull was. The antimatter and photon torpedoes bombarded the shuttle and she fired one back. Her return fire was useless, but she didn't believe in no-win situations. She had had more than her fair share of turmoil on her lifetime.

Flames engulfed the cockpit and the vibrations became almost unbearable. The sky became a dizzy blur and blood cascaded down her face, from where she had hit a console as she ducked. She reached up and touched the blood. This time, the wound on her cheek was real. Sito sniffed and wiped her eyes; she furiously, messily combed her blonde hair out of her face.

A crimson tide blurred her vision and life itself very nearly drained from her eyes. Her own yells and curses and mutterings brought her back in time. There she was: in the Occupation again. Fighting Cardassian oppressors. She had thought very long and hard about joining the Underground. But, the Bajoran Underground was notorious, and not for all the right reasons. Deaths were rife, as were common spats amongst its members. They were all fighting for the same cause – for a free Bajor – but, that didn't necessarily mean that there was order.

Family members would have the life sucked out of them before their very eyes. Smoke choked their lungs and flames licked ever higher and higher. Terrified screams and angry yells rang out amongst the metallic-clad hiding holes of the Resistance fighters. Sito knew she was not cut out for that. After all, she supposed, if she helped kill the Cardassians, how did that make her any better than them? The Cardassians had done what they had done to Bajor for a reason. A sick, barely justifiable reason, but nonetheless, it was a reason. They were not simply bored or in need of something to occupy their time with; they needed Bajor's plentiful resources. For not one moment did Sito forgive the Spoonheads – nor did she think she would ever be able to, but she was not able to completely and utterly condemn them.

Two wrongs did not make a wrong. Revenge had, and always would have awful, stinging consequences. Life was hard in the Occupation, and Sito Jaxa had seen many of her closest comrades and family members murdered ruthlessly by the Cardassians, either collectively or individually.

Sito was paralysed. Frozen. Her levels of adrenaline were lessening. She was pretty sure she had a broken ankle or had at least suffered a severe sprain. Her ears were ringing and the noise of an explosive decompression was beginning to deafen all of her senses. Blindly, she reached for the communication controls. She struggled to get a message to the Enterprise. The only thing that would have a hope of being her salvation. Holding onto the console with two steadfast, bleeding hands, she ordered, "Computer… start log."

The computer chirped. "Unable to comply."

The bland, calm tone angered Sito beyond measure. Yet, she retained her composed state. "Why?" she managed to breathe the word.

Again, the machine beeped. "Communication systems are non-operational," it replied. "Main sensors and subspace relays have sustained heavy damage."

Shit. Of course they had sustained heavy damage. She was flying – hovering – blind. Flames licked higher and higher, and she could smell burning metal, burning flesh. She yelped, shaking a tongue of fire off her ankle.

Surely the shuttle could take no more. Coolant systems had rupture, sending cool flows of gas and liquid spilling madly about the cabin. Warning sirens blared and the calm, female computer voice delivered various warnings of varying degrees of seriousness.

"Computer," she started again. "Can I scan for other vessels?" she asked.

"Specify parameters."

She considered, but cut her thinking time short. She barely had any time to do anything beyond what was necessary. "Try… two lightyears."

"Three Cardassian patrol cruisers approximately fifty kilometres off the starboard bow," the computer relayed the information.

"Federation vessels!" she screamed at the computer system, no longer able to control herself much more. She could see the goddamn Cardassian patrol ships. She didn't need anyone to tell her they were there!

By chance, she looked down and saw that her hands were tingling. They were turning blue and were dotted with sparkles. Her reflection in the forward window showed her that her entire body was experiencing the same thing. She knew what was happening. She was being transported. But, she didn't know where.


	5. Waking Up in Hell

Flecks of light danced about the place – wherever the place was. The light met Sito's eyes and she blinked several times, in an attempt to adjust to the newfound light source. With her right hand, she reached up to wiped her eyes. At least, she tried to reach up and wipe her eyes. The relieving movement was cut short when he arm was suddenly yanked back. But, not by another person, as she had previously thought. She looked down and almost jumped out of her skin when she realised was holding her in place. A chain. A massive chain. One that was constructed out the strongest metal alloys around. She yanked it in protest; vain protest.

The smell that surrounded her and she had no choice but to grimace and wrinkle her nose. The smell was similar to what it had been like in the shuttlecraft – however long time ago that had been. Blood and sweat and tears. Except, it wasn't her blood, not really, anyway. She had a cut on her face, and the only way she knew she was bleeding was because a little puddle of crimson ooze had formed underneath her. She wasn't particularly sweaty, but her forehead was sticky and her hands were clammy, but somehow were also cold.

It was then that she noticed she was lying down. She slowly got into a seated position. Though she had done so gently; as gently as she could, anyway, she felt some sort of release on her chain. The shackles were longer than she had previously thought; more yielding. She had unwittingly unwrapped the connective cord from around a rock.

Now, at least she was able to more with a little more freedom. She got to her feet; slowly and steadily, and began to scan her surroundings. However, her attempt only got into the preliminary stages. Her train of thought was cut off by some sort of sound. It wasn't just any sound – it was hellish. It was somewhere in between screaming and crying and whimpering and cursing. Yet, in amongst all pitiful and terrifying noises, was a positive one. Praying. Praying to the Prophets.

Sito snapped her head around and found she was looking around a corner. Not an artificial corner, though. It was a rock face. Some sort of compound had obviously been – rather unsuccessfully and crudely – bored into the face of a mountain. A huge mountain. She saw dust at her feet, and realised that her clothes were tatty and worn, more so than they had been when she first tried them on.

She wished she had brought her combadge, although she settled herself somewhat with the knowledge that her… captors would not have let her keep any devices that could have a hope of being used for communication purposes in the first place. She felt safer in her uniform; knowing Captain Picard and his crew would have her back. She knew little, but what she did know was that she was alone. Completely, utterly, alone.

The young Bajoran turned her attention to the star. It was shining dimly in the distance. She could make out, despite it being daytime, a shimmering speck which must have been another planet. The world on which she was possessed a healthy atmosphere, so it seemed logical that she assume it was a planet, and not a moon.

The only system that Sito knew of – and she knew many systems, thanks to her relentless training in Starfleet – that had planets orbiting so closely together was Cardassia's system. She realised that the tiny speck of a world over and above the hazy horizon was Cardassia Prime. Thus, she was on Cardassia II. She shuddered at that very thought. Her neurons had barely had even the slightest of chances to warn her brain of the impending sorrow that was to come from such a dreadful realisation.

Turning around, she caught sight of someone else beside her. Not exactly beside her, but they were reasonably close. The person's lank, tangled hair covered their face, so Sito couldn't really make any more assumptions other than the fact that they were humanoid. "Excuse me…" Sito began calmly, her words clamped in place by the wise, motivational words that Captain Picard had spoken to her.

The huddled figure shuffled ever so slightly, and even looked up. For a fraction of a second, their eyes met. Sito ignored her initial thought, which was to wait for a little while, as she was soon struck with the abhorrent realisation that it was likely no one was going to rescue her. After all, how would they even know where she was? Of course, the Enterprise was to meet her in the orbit of Cardassia Prime. But, as far as she knew – and remembered – her shuttle had been obliterated by Cardassian phaser fire. When the flagship of the Federation arrived at the chosen meeting point, all they would find would be a sea of debris and smoking metal. Not a thing that could tell them where Sito or Joret were.

That brought yet another thought to her mind. Where was Joret? He had accompanied her on the mission, in the shuttlecraft. She had bid him farewell and good luck, and he did the same to her, when he had stepped into the transporter pad and… left. Maybe, Sito thought, her eyes and her heart filling prematurely with hope, Joret was here too. Breaking her reverie, she strengthened her gaze on the as yet unnamed, conspicuous figure.

"Hello," Sito whispered, starting to approach the person. "Are you hurt?" Sito knew that she was venturing into dangerous territory, but she was a Starfleet officer. Never leave a man down. It was not a regulation or a rule, let alone a law. However, it was something that every single Starfleet officer held close to their minds and hearts. And, this was to be no exception.

The humanoid appeared scared; worrisome and fretful. With tearful, yet somehow strong eyes, they regarded Sito. Sito was waiting for – had expected – her to speak. Yet, that time did not come… yet.

Sito edged a little closer. As soon as she was about to kneel down, to focus in a little more closely on the individual, she was interrupted.

"Bajoran!" a low, gruff voice yelled. "Get back to work!" Someone yanked her chain.

Confused and alarmed, a frazzled Sito looked around. "What…?" she said, her voice so quiet that she was very nearly only mouthing her word. "You're… No." The words fell out of her mouths.

The man sneered and stiffened. He proffered his phaser rifle, and Sito had no choice but to shrink back.

"Where am I?" The place which she had gained such determination and courage to pose such a question escaped her at that moment in time, but she was thankful for it, nonetheless. She stepped forward, facing the Cardassian properly.

"I said, get back to work!" he ordered harshly. His eyes were grey; as lifeless as a long-dead corpse. His sharp face and otherwise majestic neck were scattered with countless scars and bruises – old, not new – and Sito figured that he must have taken part in the Federation-Cardassian war. She bit her lip, unwittingly. He shoved her away from him.

Sito, however, shook her head. The true fighting spirit that Bajorans were now know for had fully started to kick in. "This is illegal," she snapped.

"I've got a good mind to shoot you here and now," he said angrily, his teeth bared. "Do as you're told."

Sito had already formulated some sort of response, but she managed to clamp her jaw shut, locking out any possibility of more words spouting. Because, she would be of no use whatsoever to the Federation or Bajor, if she were dead.

The Cardassian, with one short movement, pushed her into the rocky wall and she groaned in pain. Spluttering, she gasped for air. "Next time you won't be so lucky," he snarled, before releasing his grip from her and carrying on with his usual business – whatever that may be.

Sito held her throat for a few seconds after that, focusing on getting her breathing patterns back to normal. Having fully recovered, she re-approached the huddled individual. Kneeling down, she noticed a flash. A flash of silver. Quickly, Sito realised that it was a knife, or a chisel. Something like that. Feeling unable to curb the impulse of looking in further to see what the stranger was doing, Sito did so. "What are you... Oh," she said, quickly retracting her question. Why had it not occurred to her? They were mining or chiseling - something similar; but they were all unpleasant and as good as death sentences.

"Please," the huddled stranger - the huddled working stranger began. Their voice was low and gruff. They sounded parched, and, when they snapped their head up slowly, Sito could easily see how very dry their lips were. "Do not talk to me," he finished, turning back to his work.

Sito couldn't help but frown. "Why?" she asked, her tone of voice barely an audible whisper.

The man shifted position, as did Sito; kneeling down on the harsh, rocky, dusty terrain was hardly what one would call favourable. "The Cardassians," he said, watching her with a critical, dark brown eye. "They will beat us and shoot us there and then."

Sito swallowed. Of course they would. They were Cardassians. What was she expecting? A little slap on the wrist? Inside her head, she had to curse herself for instilling such neglect into her analysis of the matter at hand. "This isn't a labour camp, is it?" she asked, her voice even quieter than it had been before.

The man considered for a moment, thinking deeply. He rubbed an obviously weary eye, but kept working on chiseling away the dense, orange-hued rock. "No," he said quietly, absently.

She pursed her lips in thought. "What is it, then?" she found herself asking. She needed an answer. Starfleet needed an answer.

"Others have called it a penal colony," the stranger informed her, their eyes meeting. A slight flicker of a grimace danced across his face, and Sito saw the deeply etched worry lines, the furrowed brow, the now lifeless eyes.

In shock, Sito's eyebrows raised up. "A penal colony?" she repeated, though she did it in a much louder volume than she had mean to. The man silently scolded her, and she hushed a short apology.

He nodded, before continuing with his 'work'. Boring a tiny hole in a massive rock face; hardly what Sito would think of calling 'work'. At least, Sito then realised, suddenly having her mood become more thankful, they haven't sent me down the mines. She had known many, many friends, during the Occupation. They had lost their lives in the mines.

"What is it that you're supposed to have done?" she quizzed, watching him with an intent gaze.

Her curiosity seemed to make him a little nervous. He scooted away from her several inches, no doubt to give the impression to their alien overseers that the two of them were not engaged in conversation - however innocent that conversation may be.

"I was..." he stopped, frowning, his worry lines growing ever stronger. "Involved in the Marquis."

"The what?" she asked, thoroughly confused. At first she wondered if that name could be the title of some sort of Bajoran resistence cell - there were so many. Then, the thought crossed her mind that the 'Marquis' may have been a secret branch of Starfleet. After all, she supposed, she was only an ensign. Starfleet was highly unlikely to reveal all information to her.

Her train of differing thoughts was broken by the stranger. "The Marquis," he repeated helpfully, but only quietly. "Some call us renegades."

Seeing that it was unlikely that he would continue his explanation, at that point, anyway, Sito intervened. "And, are you?" she asked for the clarification.

The man stiffened and slowed down his chiseling work. "We are anti-Cardassian," he then explained.

"Anti-Cardassian?" Sito repeated, alarmed, but also a little perplexed.

Again, he nodded, though he did it more discreetly. "Precisely."

Other Bajoran workers - and, Sito noted, a Bolian, a Klingon and a Trill - were looking at them. Sito shifted a tiny bit closer to her reluctant, but nonetheless quite helpful informant. "I see," she whispered.

Her apparently slow reaction seemed to get the man's tired, yet critical attention. "You don't... sympathize with the Spoonheads, do you?" He glared at her.

Sito wanted to instantly snap 'No', but something stopped her. She didn't feel sorry for the Cardassians. However, nor did she utterly hate their very existence. Of course, she hated very much what they had done to her once beautiful, fertile planet. And yet, she found that she could not actually loathe them. "No, I am not collaborator," she quickly said.

"I didn't say you were," he quickly maintained. "I only wanted to know if I was talking to someone who had helped the Cardassians. Who liked the Cardassians."

Sito remained silent for sometime, busy in her own thoughts. As she had to keep telling herself, she did not like the Cardies, nor did she really despise them, either. She had met some good Cardassians, like Joret Dal, and she had met a great deal of not so good ones.

"Bajoran," that voice that Sito had heard before said gruffly, dominantly.

Instantly, she turned away from the stranger, who hurriedly returned to his work, chiseling furiously at the rock face. She could almost feel the man's anxiety, his sheer terror. She, on the other hand, was positively determined not to give in to her quickly building fear. The Occupation was over, albeit for only a year, so the Cardassians had no control over her, or the Bajorans as a whole, right?

"Get up," he ordered, and Sito did so shakily. "I want to look you in the eye."

Having obeyed him, she instinctively started back. The guard, however, had other ideas. His arm came out and held her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. "Now," he said harshly. Sito tried to look away from his badly scarred face and poorly looked after teeth. "While you're here, which will be as long as you live your miserable life, you will listen to me." His snarl sent shivers down her spine. "Maybe if you let go, I can get back to work," she quipped, before falling quiet once again, hating herself for letting her run away with her words like that.

However, she realised that it would not be out of order if she were... thankful for their close proximity. That way, at least, she could tell what his rank was. He was only a Glinn, a Commander. He would never be in charge of a section as big as that one was. Also, Sito could only see as far as the Bajoran eye would let her; she could not get an accurate idea of how many workers were operating over the ridge or beyond the ever-popular, yet twice as deadly lake. She had no real, proper idea of where one jurisdiction ended and another began.

The guard smirked at her, the corners of his mouth turning up cruelly. "If you don't start behaving, I may have to make you behave," he snapped.

She tried to struggle out of his grip. He, however much he appeared to like her struggles, let go of her.

"I can't work," she told him, trying not to mumble.

An eye ridge of his lifted. "Oh, really?" he sneered.

"I have no tools," she informed him. She couldn't realistically live out the rest of her days staring idly at a brick wall for the rest of eternity, and she knew that. At least she'd have something to do.

"I have none to give you," he said, his voice matter-of-fact.

"Then, what am I to do?"

He shrugged. "Go to the Chief. He will give you the necessary items."

"That's it?" she asked, raising a hesitant eyebrow. She stole a quick glance around her, and saw that the other workers were still quite engrossed in their occupations.

"You were expecting more?" he asked with a slight smirk.

She folded her arms, feeling a little awkward with them hanging at her sides. "I mean, do I not need... debriefing?"

"Prisoners do not get debriefed," he retorted. "You are a criminal and an enemy of the Cardassian Empire."

She bit her lip, preventing any further unfortunate words on her part from coming out.

She squinted in the sun and watched in fear and confusion, mixed with alarm, as that same guard, along with a few of his companion officers began tormenting the other prisoners; poking them with their phaser rifles, jeering at them, hauling some of them away.


	6. When Your Prayers Are Ignored

Night had never seemed to fall so slowly for Sito Jaxa. She had returned to her barracks, small, cramped quarters, an hour or so previous. The room was practically a large hall, with metallic-looking bunks, all crudely fashioned in typical, harsh Cardassian design. The room was also dark and pretty dingy; nothing like the bright, hearty, lush atmosphere that the generic Bajoran home possessed.

Having spent her entire life, except the past year or so, in the Occupation of Bajor, Sito knew what Cardassian architecture looked like. It consisted mainly of sharp, jutting shapes. The skyscrapers on Cardassia Prime were curved and pointed up weirdly, protruding out at all sorts of strange upright angles. Circles were rarely seen on Cardassia, with the occasional semi-circle being the closest one could get. And, this particular room was no exception.

Sito couldn't help but let her mind wander. What were the officer's quarters like? Spacious, with room enough to swing a cat, unlike her barracks which had two dozen bunks squeezed in. Warm, not that Sito was particularly bothered about her living spaces having high temperatures. For, the outside temperature was already moderately hot, even though the sky was quickly darkening. She promptly wiped that slate clean; thinking about Cardassian sleeping and living quarters was not high on her list of priorities.

After washing, Sito went to her bunk. It was on the lower level, for which she was quite thankful. She sat there, drawing her knees up beneath her, and thought. Where Starfleet looking for her? Did Joret get home safely? For a split second, she wondered if maybe Joret had come to Cardassia II – to see her. That didn't seem likely, but she had to hope. Without hope, she had little. She put her hands together and prayed to the Prophets.

_Oh, Prophets, hear my plea. The enemy, they have me. I must escape. I need to inform Starfleet. This penal colony is illegal and against our rights. I cannot lead an uprising. No one here will listen to me. I need your assistance, divine Prophets._

She sighed, satisfied that her prayer would surely be answered. The Prophets had not failed her since; whether it be she was praying that her family's crops would survive the winter, or pleading for her life, as she was now. She knew they would not leave her.

Soon, sleep overcame her. Her limbs became drowsy and her mind gained weariness. She curled up and tried to block out the eerie sounds of screams and cries and yells that were still coming from outside. The barracks were poorly maintained. They were dusty and grimy and Cardassian voles seemed to have been given free rein over the place. No one was in the bunk above Sito, but she was surrounded on all other sides by moaning and snoring prisoners. One of the few things that she did, in fact, have to be thankful for, though, was that the Cardassians had  _at least_ given her somewhere to sleep. And, not just a hole in the ground or a hollowed out stone.

Across the room, Sito had noticed a Klingon. He had a matted beard and greasy hair, and seemed to be chanting the words to some sort of ancient ritual. Having been so close with Lieutenant Worf, Sito knew very clearly that Klingons valued honour for oneself and for one's house more than anything else. She guessed that that particular Klingon was wishing that he would be with Kahless' spirit in Heaven. That he would be free from a seemingly eternal life of subservience and an eternity of being  _ruled_ by the infernal Cardassians.

A Bolian was sat up in his bunk on the other side of the room, just simply looking around the room. He wasn't speaking, nor was he moving. He was just sat there, staring blankly at one spot, before he apparently got bored and moved onto another area of wall to stare down.

In the adjacent bunk to Sito, a Bajoran woman was whimpering, clutching her wrists which were obviously sore form the shackles. That was cause enough for Sito to look at her own wrists. They were not nearly as red and raw as the other woman's had been, but Sito rightfully put that down to their being there for massively different lengths of time.

Beyond the whimpering woman, was a human male. He was past middle age and looked sombre, even as he was sleeping. His chest moved up and down harshly, in keeping with his obviously poor quality of breathing.

Sito lay back in the bunk and closed her eyes.

A loud clanging sound awoke the captives. The sun had barely begun to shine through the grates when they were ordered to work again. Sito was just stepping outside of the compound's barracks when she was yanked sharply to one side. With horror and dread in her eyes, she looked forward and her gaze was met by the neatly armoured chest of a Cardassian soldier. A Garresh. He looked down at her disapprovingly, and pulled her closer to him when she tried to pull away.

"What is it?" she finally asked, as he began dragging her away from the barracks.

For a moment, he remained silent. It wasn't that he was being rude or that he felt her too below him to even bother to talk. Sito noticed something in his eyes. He appeared to be confused, out of his depth, unsure. "You were ordered by Glinn Ledel to report to Gul Toran."

She blinked. Several times.  _I was?_ She frowned, and then her expression returned to normal once she remembered. Ledel. That was his name. "Yes. That's right," she said quietly.

The Garresh studied her for a short moment, as if she were a curiosity. Not that she should be, many a Bajoran had been seen by a Cardassian. He twitched a tiny bit – the slightest of movements – before continuing to shove her through the corridors of some new part of the complex, a part that Sito had never seen before. She gathered that it was the central command section of that part of the colony. An entire planet devoted to the punishment of criminals. Supposed criminals. People who had not yet been acquitted or guilty.  _Innocent until proven guilty._ That was a law that did not apply in Cardassian courts of jurisprudence.

They reached a tall black door. The Garresh stood to one side and keyed in a few commands into the computer panel. She tried to squirm out of his grip, but he had one hand on her right arm firmly. For such a skinny, young man, he was surprisingly strong. She fought back the beckoning thought of breaking free from the Garresh.

"Stop moving," one the Cardassian ordered her firmly. His voice was oddly cold and emotionless. The iciness of his voice cut her, but not deep. She knew it was an act. He was likely as uncomfortable as she was.

The door opened, once the final access codes had been typed in. The room she was greeted with was dark, dingy, hot, and depressing. She was pulled forward and to the side abruptly by the low ranking officer. She landed with a harsh thud and she yelped in surprise and pain. As she drew her eyes up, she caught sight of a pair of feet, garbed in dark, heavy boots. Something inside of her broke. Another Cardassian. She knew it would be, but some tiny part of her thought it was not. It could have been Captain Picard. Or Commander Riker. Or Lieutenant Worf.

She banished those far too uplifting thoughts and slowly got to her feet.

"Get up," a sharp voice ordered her.

_I am,_ she wanted to yell. She increased her pace and was promptly on her feet. She turned around, but saw that the Garresh was already backing away, ready to vacate the room.

"Leave us," the Gul ordered him, and the Garresh quickly and quietly scuttled away. The door slid close with a sharp hiss behind him.

"Now then," Gul Toran said with mock politeness. "Would you like some Kanar?"

She started back, flabbergasted by his abrupt kindness. "I… what?" she asked, stammering. "No," she quickly snapped. "No. Thank you."

"That cannot be said for all of us," he said, smirking. He gestured to a tall bottle. It had a helter-skelter sort of design and was filled with a thick, black substance. As Sito poured it into a nearby glass, she saw it had a tar-like consistence. He took the Kanar and drank it all in one less than refined swig. "What can I do for you?" he asked, playing innocent. He scanned her body with his eyes, from head to toe. "I rarely get Bajoran women as… visitors."

Her heart skipped a beat and she wondered for a slight moment whether or not it would start pumping again.

"This is quite interesting."

However, before he could get much further, Sito changed the subject. "Glinn Ledel," she began to explain, "He told me that I needed to report to the Chief. That's you, isn't it?"

He nodded slowly. _"Report_ to me?" Toran repeated, amused, and raising a thick eye ridge.

Slowly, Sito nodded.

Toran let out a low, gravelly laugh. Sobering, he said, "You are not one of my soldiers. You had no need to report to me." His mood darkened and he glared at her.

She shifted away slightly, growing ever more uncomfortable. "That is… what Glinn Ledel told me." She wondered if he expected her to say 'sir', but she decided easily to let that title drop loose. She didn't want to address him as if he were some sort of authoritative figure. Because, in her eyes, he was not.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"I told him I required some tools, for the… chiselling, or whatever it is," Sito told him firmly, holding her gaze at him. "So, he said to come here. And, that, um, Garresh brought me."

He nodded. "Garresh? You know our rank system?" he asked. "How?" His eyes narrowed.

"I'm…" she stopped dead in her tracks. It wouldn't do any harm to anyone if she told Gul Toran her affiliation with Starfleet. However, she would be very careful to not mention Joret. "Starfleet," she finished.

The ghost of a smile flickered across Toran. But, Sito didn't see it for long enough to see whether or not it was a friendly or unwanted smile. "Starfleet?" he repeated. He called up some logs on his computer. "Ah, yes. You were in the shuttle we… acquired."

"That you  _attacked,"_ she quipped, forgetting her newfound place.

He ignored her. "What were you doing in the shuttle?"

She bit down on her bottom lip, forcing herself not to reveal any information regarding Joret Dal. She had heard of – and come particularly close to actually witnessing – Cardassian torture techniques. They were practically unrivalled in the galaxy, even more so than the methods usually employed by Romulus' Tal Shiar. Slowly, measuredly, she exhaled. "I was on a training mission," she finally said, running each word she spoke through her mind for evaluation. "You see, I'm only an ensign, and I recently got assigned to a ship." She did not let on that it was the  _Enterprise._ After all, the Federation's flagship had already seen quite a bit of action regarding the Cardassians. For instance, the incident during which Gul Macet uncharacteristically beamed aboard to actually work symbiotically with the  _Enterprise's_ crew, and the time when Captain Picard himself was abducted by the Cardassians and Lemec and Jellico began talks.

Again, he nodded, looking thoughtful. He gestured for more Kanar, and she grudgingly passed it over, and he poured it for himself that time. Bringing the glass up to his lips, he hesitated. "That still does not answer my question."

She was hoping, rather stupidly and weakly, that he had forgotten about his main question. He hadn't. "Oh, yes," she hurriedly replied. "I got lost, and my…" Again, she stopped to think. She couldn't say anything like her shuttle's systems had failed, because the Cardassians who had shot her down – obliterated her craft – would know otherwise. "The guidance system went down," she decided to say. The Cardassians wouldn't have been able to know that. "So, I was flying blindly."

"I understand," Toran said with a quick nod of his head.

"Gul… Sir," Sito said. "I, uh, apologise if I am speaking out of turn, but I was wondering  _why_ I was asked to come  _here."_

"You will have to speak with the overseer," he said sharply. For a short while, he simply studied her facial expression. "Perhaps the Glinn has taken a liking to you."

She sat there, aghast. She was a prisoner. Wrongfully, a prisoner. She shook her head determinedly.

He laughed at her perplexed and plainly horrified expression. "I was not being serious," he said smoothly. "But, you shall be provided with the required tools. If you do not speak out of turn; if you obey all orders put to you; if you do not try to escape, you will have a… pleasant time here."

Her face screwed up in disgust.  _Pleasant._ She crossed her legs and thought for a while, pursing her lips musingly.

"Leave," he suddenly ordered, looking up from his computer screen. "Your accommodation has changed. You may be—" he almost sneered "—Bajoran, but you work for Starfleet, or so you say."

"I do," she reinforced, not wanting to leave  _any_ space for uncertainty on his part.

He nodded and forced a grin. "The Federation has, on occasion, collaborated with the Cardassian Union."

Sito nodded uncertainly. She stood up and the doors opened, where she was escorted out of his office by two guards. The original Garresh had gone, and there were now two Gils on either of her sides, watching her closely, with phasers poised and one of them had shackles attached to his belt.


	7. A Strange Saviour

Sito was walked to her quarters. Her  _accommodation,_  rather. The word 'quarters' implied privacy and comfort, and a penal colony stood for completely the opposite things. The winding corridors would have been confusion, had it not been for the clear-cut, straight, uniform layout. It was like a subway system; everything was neatly arranged. Sito thought it entirely odd that a race as… barbaric as the Cardassians could seem to favour cleanliness and order at such a high degree.

They came to a door, and Sito stood back. The guards must have thought that she was intending to run away or something, as one of them – the one with the olive eyes – yanked her back sharply. The elder one opened the door and it slid across with a loud, uncomfortable hiss. Sito braced herself slightly, expecting that they would simply throw her in, as had happened before when she appeared in a new room. The guards, however, undid her shackles and stared at her. Harshly. "Your barracks are here," the olive-eyed one said blandly. "If you do not report for labour promptly, you will be punished. Severely." He looked at her from head to toe.

The elder guard flashed a look of anger at his subordinate, and then his expression neutralised, but remained reasonably stony. "Labour starts today. You are to report to your overseer."

Sito considered, not moving, or even changing her facial expression. The overseer, Gul Toran, she mused. "Can I… Can I wash?" she finally summed up the courage to ask.

He grinned viciously. "There is no time. You must earn luxuries."

_So,_ washing  _is a luxury?_ Sito thought to herself.

"Just because you're Starfleet," he continue, "it doesn't mean you can evade the rules. Step  _one_ foot out of line, and you'll be taken in to custody."

That didn't sound  _too_ bad.

"And shot," he finished, glaring at her wildly.

Sito found herself shrinking back. She backed into the wall and fought back her building nerves.

"You must report for labour now," the olive-eyed one muttered.

"My tools?" she asked.

"You shan't be using the conventional tools that you have seen so many others use, like that Bajoran fellow, Kitos Moran."

_Kitos Moran._ That was his name. A revelation hit her like a wave smashing into a shore. "You've killed him," the worlds quietly bid farewell to her mouth.

He chuckled harshly. "Whatever gave you that impression?"'

"You're Cardassian. That is what gives me that 'impression'," she quipped.

He glared at her, his grey eyes piercing into her soul. "He is being…" he paused, allowing himself time to display an insufferable sneer. "Dealt with," he concluded.

She scowled at him. "Dealt with? I know what you do during interrogations. He's dead. You killed him." She hated being so very blunt, but there was no way she could beat around the bush with describing such a  _hateful_ and  _awful_ crime. It was abysmal. Executing… no,  _murdering,_ an innocent man.

"He was not innocent," the one with the olive coloured eyes said sharply, as if he could read her mind.

Sito shuddered slightly, suddenly growing uncomfortable. At least,  _more_ uncomfortable than she had been. "What? How?" she asked in a small voice.

"That shall not be disclosed to you, Bajoran," the elder guard stated firmly. And so, they left her to her own devices.

Sito took the few, precious spare moments in welcomingl. She had no way of knowing  _who_ exactly was to be spending their 'leisure' time in the barracks with her, but she gathered that it must be other captured Starfleet officers. Starfleet personnel were quite hard to come by, especially if the person hoping to procure them happens to be a Cardassian. The Federation – and, indeed many other species – had been wary of the race ever since the Federation-Cardassian War and The Occupation of Bajor.

It was also lighter, but only by the slightest of margins. The room still had a malodourous scent clinging to the air molecules, but it was not nearly as strong as the smell in the previous barracks Sito had been forced to stay in. There were six bunks, she counted. The room, though, was much smaller than the other one. She knew that was for a reason. This was probably some sort of now unused materials shed that had been converted – rather crudely – into a  _living_  space. The other barracks were concentration camp style.

Her new 'assignment', as it were, was not much of a step-up from the short stinted other one. She was ordered to work closer to the barracks, where there was a tiny bit more in the way of shade and refreshment. Of course, the guards would not readily give her more water; ordering instead that she continue working for a little bit longer, and that time soon turned into hours on end. Then, she would get a few extra dozen millilitres of water.

At present, she was crouched down in a corner. Beside her a few plants were growing. Not that one could label them as 'plants', as such. They were withered and dying and looked as parched as anything. Sito stared at them for a little moment, and a tear appeared at the corner of her eye. She instantly reached up and winced – for, the shackles strained on her wrists – wiping the tear away.

She looked up and frowned, not only because of the intense sunlight. Crowds of other prisoners began getting to their feet. Sito hesitantly followed them. A large metal wire door stood between the gathering crowd and the canteen area. The door was banked on either side by mesh fences, each of which rose many metres high.

There were guards stationed on either side of the door, four in all. The laughed and jibed at the prisoners, elbowing one another playfully and smirking at the starving, unkempt captives. Ignoring the appreciative glances of the guards, Sito slipped in through the wire door and reached the end of the canteen. It was open, not inside a structure. The air was still, yet the atmosphere was stuffier than usual. This time, it was not only the sunlight that caused the warmth, it was the intense heat waves coming from the crude cooking devices.

It stank of oil and Guls, Dals, Dalins, Glinns and Gils would saunter past bringing the faint whiff of Kanar with them. That made Sito's stomach flip. As she reached the serving place, she picked up a tray. It was metal and was supposed to be silver, though it was plainly rusted beyond belief. She carried the square tray over to where the remainder of the prisoners – those who had not yet received their food – were stood. As she shunted her tray along the runner, she wanted to cry. To return to Bajor, or the  _Enterprise._ To have Captain Picard tell her she had done well. To know Joret Dal was alive and well.

Knowing that dwelling on the past would do little good, she controlled herself and began chanting the Starfleet code of conduct in her head. Her moment of leave from the terrible world on which she was broke. A sad-looking Bajoran cook scooped up some brown slop and plopped it on her plate. She thought she was going to get some more, but one spoonful was all she got. She slid through the crowd of Cardassians and Bajorans and other species, taking up a seat. She didn't want company. She wanted only to think. Company would not get her home.

She dug her fork into the food. It was hot, but only lukewarm. Not as hot is it should have been. It smelled unpleasant, but Sito couldn't describe it. Its taste was a hundred times worse. It tasted of stale bread, cabbage, potatoes and faintly of cheese. In fact, it was  _worse._ Having finished her meal, she pushed it back to the far edge of the table. She noticed that no one had come to sit with her. Strange, she wondered. There were barely any seats in that part of the complex. Word must have gotten around that she had been the last person whom Kitos Moran had been talking to.

A group of hollering guards approached her, and she instantly tried to look busy. She knew that the two guards who had escorted her to her new barracks, and the Garresh who had taken her to see Gul Toran would've likely told their friends the story. The story of how she was shot down – well, shot  _at_ – and taken prisoner there.

"You're the Starfleet one we captured," one of them announced, and a few other prisoners turned to watch.

Sito coughed and stood up, ready to set aside her scraped plate for waste disposal.

She was thrown back in place by their commanding, drunken voices alone. "We haven't finished talking to you, yet," another one said.

Sulkily, she stepped back, still holding her plate. "Move the plate," the first one ordered.

Sito did.

"Ah, now we can see what you look like."

Sito put the plate on the table and crossed her arms. As she started to exit the canteen area, the group of cantankerous guards stepped in her way. "Not so fast," another said, smirking.

She started back, almost stumbling over the legs of assorted, poorly kept furniture.

"Mortel! Nirot!" a sharp voice called out to them. Sito looked around, and saw that the Cardassians tormenting her and the variety of prisoners about her had fallen deadly silent – not that the prisoners had been making much noise anyway. The voice continued. "Ejik!" A slender Cardassian, who was too tall for his own good, and far too imposing, strolled into the canteen area. He turned up his nose, obviously unused to being so close to such disarray, though it was he that was likely responsible for all that was lain before him.

The three guards guiltily nodded and mumbled something that sounded like "Yes, sir."

Sito wondered who the new Cardassian was. He was not Toran, she could tell that, despite the hazy heat waves that almost disrupted her vision. Toran was broad-shouldered and a little shorter, this Cardassian on the other hand was much slimmer. As he walked closer, the sun perfectly outlined the sharp contours of his face; the high cheekbones and the defined eye ridges, the long neck. His aquamarine eyes met hers as she looked up at him, with him glaring downwards. His watchful eye flickered up and over to his subordinates. "Leave," he told them bluntly, but nonetheless commanding.

They nodded, but this time the movement was fiercer. One of them was lagging in his acknowledgment. "Sir, I wasn't finished—"

The overseer cut him off, not least with his demanding glare. "I'll have you demoted to clerk if you will not listen," he snapped. "Get out before I change my mind and do just that."

He, Nirot, nodded. "Yes, sir," he said with wavering resolution. Then, he and his fellow Glinns left and returned to whatever it was that they were to do.

Sito stood there, and wanted to say something to the tall Cardassian, but he was already gone. She cleared her plate away, brushing away the challenging stares of the other prisoners. She advanced on the exit gate, where she was re-shackled, and led with some other captives to her labour site. She began work again.


	8. Untold Worry

He was woken by the sound of his comcuff beeping. Joret yawned and rubbed his neck; the exquisite ridges stiffening. Bringing his comcuff up to his mouth, he said softly, "Joret Dal here." He paused, before finally continuing. "Who is this?" Surely no one knew where he was? A flash of panic was evident on his grey face. He frowned, half-thoughtfully and half-horrified. Just as his mind was about to run away from him; his brain plagued with unpleasant ideas of what would become of him if the Obsidian Order were to find out what he had been up to, a reply came through.

"Joret Dal," a voice spoke. It was loud and authoritative, yet also kind and thoughtful. "This is Captain Picard of the USS Enterprise."

It had been a week - at least - since Joret had been on the Federation's flagship. His time home had been uneventful. It was because of the mundaneness of the few days that he started to think that something interesting would actually happen soon. His wish had come true... much to his unexpected dismay and frustration.

"Captain?" Joret asked, finally clearing his mind more or less fully. He sat up more straightly in his chair. "This is a secure channel. Unless this is extremely important, we must discontinue this conversation."

Picard continued, "I understand that, Dal. Yet, this is not a military or security matter, relatively speaking."

Joret's eye ridges knitted together in confusion. "I don't understand."

"A few days ago," the Captain continued. "You were involved with a Starfleet mission." Joret nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Accompanying you on that mission was Ensign Sito Jaxa," said Picard.

Joret slumped back in his chair. The Bajoran. All of their conversations, however short and trivial, came flooding back to him and he felt a tinge of worry come over him. "I know," the Cardassian said quietly.

"Ensign Sito," said the Federation captain. "We arrived to retrieve her shuttlecraft, but she was not there. Her... shuttle, it was destroyed."

"Destroyed?" Joret repeated, alarmed; confused.

Picard nodded solemnly. "Quite." He paused. "The debris has traced of Cardassian phaser fire."

"They wouldn't," Joret muttered disapprovingly. He shook his head, not wanting to believe that a Bajoran woman had risked her life to help him return home.

"Since the war between our two peoples has only just come to an end, Starfleet Headquarters has ordered I do not confront the Detapa council," Picard explained, his voice growing terse.

"Do you know what has happened to ensign Sito?" Joret found himself asking, staring absentmindedly at a computer screen.

Picard cleared his throat. "No, Dal. We have assumed that she... perished along with her shuttle."

"I apologise on behalf of the perpetrators, Captain," Joret said sorrowfully.

"Acknowledged," Picard said. "But, if you come across any new information, I urge that you relay it to us."

"Captain, I cannot," Joret replied simply. "The Order are tracking every communication that goes in and out of Cardassia."

Picard was silent for a while and considered. "I understand. We will arrange for a more secure channel to be created, however-"

Joret cut him off. "I agree," he said bluntly.

"We appreciate your help, Dal."

With that, the communications link was severed and silence fell upon the office space once again. Joret twiddled his thumbs and clenched his jaw. Something, and he was not sure what, told him the Bajoran was not gone.


	9. Speaking to Ghosts

That night, Sito was having trouble sleeping. And, not least because of the uncomfortable bed; she would have given anything to not have to spend another night in that God-awful bed. Her mind had been plagued with all sorts of disconcerting images. They swirled around her head, but refused to disappear.

Ever since she had landed, or crashed, or however she had actually come to be on the infernal penal colony world, she often found herself in an intense state of thought. The rough labour and long hours made it somewhat difficult to find time for herself, but she nonetheless was thoughtful. It was hard not to think about her circumstances – and when, if, how, they would  _ever_ change. If they would improve or worsen. She didn't much like the idea of the second possibility.

As she lay in bed that night, her eyes wandered about the room. The musky smell – of which the origin she had still not yet been able to figure out – hang about like nobody's business. Small chirping sounds filled in the moments of silence. The quiet times when nothing stirred, except of course, the occasional curious Cardassian Vole, or troops marching briskly outside someplace.

The nights were always warm, but not really unpleasantly so. Sito wondered by how much the temperature would increase if it were summertime. The Cardassians, she knew, would probably be having a field day whenever they found out that they were stationed there. Cardassia II was slightly cooler than its Prime counterpart, as it was further away from their star. Nonetheless, it was still very warm. Unlike Earth's neighbour, Mars, Cardassia II possessed a very similar atmosphere to that of Cardassia Prime.

Sito thought that the planet on which she was imprisoned would be an ideal replacement for Risa, should that particular planet ever decide to go out of business. Certainly, the temperature was warm enough, but it had been destroyed by the Spoonheads. They had desecrated a lot of the surrounding land. Of course, it would never be truly lush like Bajor was, but it would not have been so desert-like, so barren and so lifeless, if the Cardassians had never come.

That night, the air was particularly sticky, hazy. Sito daren't even bother sleep under the covers, instead choosing to rest on top of the sheets.

That previous day, she had spoken to a couple of other prisoners. The two of them were convicted of conspiring to murder some Cardassian Legate during the Occupation.  _While the Cardassians who executed millions of_ innocent  _Bajorans at the same time walk away freely; nothing but an unsavoury label on their heads,_ Sito thought, disgusted. The two other captives were quite old, probably the other side of fourty. They had sullen faces, but Sito could see how desperate they were to get out of the penal colony. They were quick to let on that they were husband and wife, and had been for twenty years.

"If you don't mind my asking," Sito had said to the pair of them. "How long have you been here? On this colony?"

The woman had answered. She pursed had her lips. "Oh, this… colony is new. Relatively speaking."

"How new?" Sito had asked, anxious to know they answer. Starfleet had records of most planets that had an M-Class atmosphere in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, regardless of whether or not they were Federation members. She gathered –  _hoped –_ that Starfleet would be able to find some sort of information regarding the illegal and rights-discarding penal colony. Federation starships that frequently traversed past the Cardassian system would definitely pick up the increases in carbon emissions and shipping activities on their sensors. If the colony was only recently established, the difference was likely to have been logged.

The balding man had considered, his expression absent yet pensive. "Hmmm… five years or so." His hazel eyes had narrowed. "We didn't have much time to consider the timeframe."

"Sorry," Sito had said quickly. "I didn't mean to…"

His wife had looked at him sharply. "Benal, it's not the fault of the young lady," she had told him in her smooth, silk-like voice.

Sito swallowed, bit her lip. "Have you been here long?" She went back to her original question.

"One month since its installation," the female Bajoran had replied solemnly. Sito had to read between the lines to catch even a glimpse of the stoically hidden sadness of the woman.  _Five years on a Cardassian penal colony._ Sito couldn't help but wonder how the two individuals had managed to stay alive and look relatively healthy for so long.

Her conversation with those people – the only people, bar Kitos Moran, who had bothered t even look at her with a complimentary glance, let alone  _talk_ to her, kept running about her head. Finally, though, she settled her head back into the pillow and absentmindedly touched her hair, the warm air endowing her with drowsiness.


	10. A Passionate Attack

**Some violence/sexual assault in this chapter**

 

Having somewhat recovered from the strange, tiring activities of the previous day, Sito awoke earlier than usual. She wiped her newly rested eyes and washed her face in the small, dirty washbasin that was at the foot of her bed. She was thankful that, in her new barracks, there were private bathing facilities. Not that each prisoner would get their own bathroom, but there was a bathing room that was attached to the main barracks building. It was slapdash and harshly designed and was unisex. That was the worst thing about it, though the Cardassians obviously possessed some sort of sense of decorum; they had assigned times for the female and male prisoners.

Sito entered the bathing room – the women get to use it first – and stared at herself in the grimy mirror. Behind her, she could hear some sort of shower running. It was an old-fashioned device, not a sonic shower. It was loud and noisy and often leaked. A few other women were getting changed around her, and Sito caught a glimpse of how skinny they were.

Distracting herself from the idea that that was what she would turn into unless she found a way to escape in the near future, Sito tied her hair up in a messy blonde and exited the barracks. She was greeted, as always, by a guard. The Glinn, whom had called himself Noda, showed her to her labour space. He was a short man, an inch or two below Sito's height, and was particularly small.

Having attached her shackles, the guard gestured to a site of rock face which Sito was to start picking away at. He handed her the crudely designed tools and then went on his way.

"Excuse me," Sito called after him. "Glinn."

He span around and faced her, a few metres off in the distance. "What is it, Bajoran?" he asked snidely.

"My handcuffs," Sito pointed out, lifting her arms up to him.

He frowned and made his way over to her, taking out a rod which Sito presumed was a key, and undid her shackles. She watched stoically as he went away.

Today's labour was to be slightly different. Not in a particularly good way, but not in a bad way, either. She would be saved the humiliation of having to sit or squat on the floor and cut away pieces of rock. Instead, she was to stand. Lifts were meant to have been installed, but the Cardassians had never got around to it. They must have had better things to do, other than cater to the simple needs of their wrongful prisoners.

Sito hated having to sit on the ground. Not only was it dusty and staining, but it was a way that the Cardassians subtly let their prisoners know that  _they_ were the rulers and were a force to be reckoned with. Much like the design of the bridge of their ships, the most senior officer would sit on the highest platform.

She wasn't particularly fond of the idea of standing up, either, but it gave her a sense of freedom. She could stretch her legs more easily that way, and the guards wouldn't come skulking up to her, ordering that she sit back down again for fear that she might escape. The workers around her had already started on their work.

As she picked up her hammer and chisel and began hammering out sharp indentations in the rock, she heard a noise. She turned around ever so slightly, so as to not attract too much attention, and saw a little bird. It was perched on a sharp outcrop of stone. She reached out to pet it, and it leant into her hand a bit. She smiled. It was so small and so innocent, something that was the polar opposite to the Cardassians and the world around them.

The bird cocked its head to one side, before Sito felt it ruffle its yellow feathers and it flew away. She wondered why it had disappeared, but then she realised that it was scared. She turned around and her throat caught.

She looked intently at the sight before her. She stepped back a tiny bit, until her back touched the sharp rock face behind her. "Can I help you?" she asked in a small, terrified voice.

The guard approached her and smirk. The smirk was so broad, Sito pondered how it did not crack his face. He was quite old, she figured, for a Cardassian. She had only ever seen younger ones. He could've been a Legate, but Sito saw that he was only a Dalin. He stepped closer and reached toward her hand; she stiffened. He forced the tool out of her hand and it fell to the orange ground. With a coldblooded hand, he pulled a strand of blonde hair out of her face. She shuddered and her eyes searched furiously around her.

"Don't think I've forgotten what you did at the canteen yesterday," he said through gritted teeth.

Sito clenched her jaw and, at first, said nothing. But, his maddening stroking of her cheek gave her cause to speak up. "I… I didn't do anything," she muttered quietly.

He laughed, but it was as cold as ice. The prisoners working around her pretended they couldn't see what was happening. They began briskly getting back to work, as if nothing were happening. They wouldn't risk their lives any more than they already had.

He pushed her further up against the rock and she yelped. "Keep your mouth shut," he snarled.

Sito swallowed, and her tears began gathering in clumps behind her eyes. He had her pinned, so she couldn't wipe them away. Suddenly, furiously, he pressed his mouth to hers, covering it. She whimpered and squealed, fighting off his hands as they travelled up her body. Pressing his lips against hers with increasing fervour, he held her hands above her head and Sito felt her lips being prised apart. Just before his tongue met hers, she bit down on it. Hard. He growled at her, but didn't show any more signs of relenting.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Sito opened her tearful eyes. The hand yanked the officer away and Sito blinked. She reached up to her jaw and massaged its aching muscles gently. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sobbed. The tears blurred her vision a little, but she regained her composure. Squaring her shoulders, she looked ahead.

"You insufferable  _slet!"_ the voice snarled, glaring seriously at the guard.

The Dalin held his ground, tilting his broad chin up, but flecks of worry danced in his irises. "Sir…" he murmured.

As the superior came closer, Sito saw that it was the overseer. He had his back turned slightly away from her, but she could recognise his figure.

The overseer was standing dangerously close to the Dalin. His head was held high, his majestic neck arched. "I warned you, vermin," he snapped. "You've crossed the line this time."

The Dalin opened his mouth, about to say something, but the overseer was having none of it. No one dared contest his orders, not his men and not his enemies.

"Get out of my sight," he snapped.

"She's  _Bajoran,"_ the Dalin said hotly, screwing up his face in disgust. He glared at Sito out of the corner of his eye, and she whimpered slightly.

"I know she's  _flekking_ Bajoran," the overseer announced tightly. "I don't need you of  _all_ people to tell me!" He stared down his subordinate.

The Dalin, though, was not yet finished. "Why are you protecting her?" he snarled at his commanding officer. He sneered. "She wanted it."

The overseer's hand travelled down to his belt, and Sito noticed he was fingering his phaser. However, and to both her confused surprise and relief, he didn't take the weapon out. He turned around to see Sito. She was wiping her eyes and fixing her hair, which had grown into a state of disarray as a result of the Dalin's advances. She glanced up, meeting his gaze, and for a millisecond, it held. Instantly, the overseer turned back around and faced his challenging subordinate.

He lifted his wrist up to his mouth and spoke into the communications device. "Understood," he said in a low volume. "You're to be deported tomorrow," he said, still glaring at the Dalin.

"Sir? What?" he repeated, confused and alarmed.

Sito, in the background, was watching intently. No one had told her otherwise, so she stayed were she was.

"You heard me," the overseer said hotly. "That was an offence, what you did. You will pay."

Sito knew what that meant. On Cardassia, pretty much  _every_ crime meant execution. And, death would not be quick and painless, as it had been on Earth centuries ago. She stepped forward tentatively. "Please, overseer," she began softly.

He turned around to face her, but refrained from looking into her blue eyes, which were still streaked with worry.

"Please, sir," she continued. "It didn't go that far." She hated herself at that moment. For allowing herself to be so weak, and, on top of that, she was basically  _helping_ a Cardassian. She had had her issues with helping Joret, but he was kind and calm and she felt that he honestly deserved her aid. This Cardassian – the Dalin – did not deserve her help, she decided. But, she wasn't going to stand by and watch as he was hauled away to a probable death sentence. "Don't have him executed."

The overseer looked thoughtful, stroking his chin. He looked disapprovingly, and then at the prisoners around them who were still working hurriedly. Picking his gaze up, and directing it back to Sito, he frowned. "Don't offer this man help," he snapped.

She, too, found her brow furrowing. "I…" she began, but then she quickly fell silent. She wasn't exactly sure of what to say. "I don't want him to die. I didn't want anyone to die." Tears filled her eyes.

"I never said he was to be executed," the overseer simply replied.

The Dalin; the subject of the entire conversation moaned. "Gul Merek, I will report to headquarters."

Overseer Merek nodded curtly. "You will. Full debriefing will begin tomorrow."

The Dalin trudged off, barely picking his feet up as he went.

"Thank you," Sito muttered after a while.

Merek squared his shoulders, though Sito could barely notice the movement because of his broad uniform carapace. "Cardassians have values, perhaps you had forgotten that."

Sito frowned and mused. "Why did you do that? I'm a prisoner," she said, before quickly adding "sir."

"This is a highly important mission." He paused. "I require every single prisoner's capabilities to be performed to their best. A prisoner will not work well if they are with injury," he bluntly replied, before walking off.


	11. Someone to Watch Over Me

Her mouth was still aching and her hands hurt quite intensely from when where the Dalin had pinned her against the rock face. Thinking of that brought her back pain back to life. She winced as she reached up and gently rubbed her shoulder blades.

Not only had her ordeal made her grimace in pain, it had also made her quite tired. Before she had completely finished her work, she curled up and lay, sleeping with head resting her arm. It was not particularly comfortable, lying on a jagged rock, but Sito liked being outside. Whilst she knew that the air was probably laced with all sorts of pesticides and industrial chemicals, it felt nonetheless clear as she breathed it in. Whilst a small was not yet able to grace her lips, she did feel somewhat content. More content than when she was lying awake in the barracks.

Just as she was drifting off into full slumber, her skin prickled with fear. She wondered if the guards who were stationed outside her barracks would notice that she was missing. No, there were  _too_ many prisoners for them to count their numbers. With that, Sito fell asleep.

That night was cold. With regards to its strange climate, Cardassia II was a lot like Earth's moon. It was because the planet was quite small, much smaller in size that Cardassia Prime. Because of its small size, the planet was unable to sustain a proper iron core. The core was what helped create an electromagnetic field around the planet. And, that EM field helped hold in a stable atmosphere. The planet did have a field, but it was not very strong. That resulted in dramatic pole shifts and mixed up seasons. Summer would become winter and winter would become summer.

One day, the temperature could be dry and hot, and the next day, it could be as cool as the blood of Cardassians themselves. It rarely rained though. In fact, Sito would go as far as to say that it  _never_ rained. The plant life and even more obscure animal life that Sito had been lucky enough to see looked as they did not require vast amounts of what, which, for them, was a very good thing.

She shivered and rubbed her shoulders furiously in an attempt to stay warm. A sudden wash of darkness swathed over her and she juddered even more. She strained herself to open her eyes and instantly sat up. "Who are you?" she asked, noticing a shadow looming over her. She felt a hand on her bare arm and she opened her mouth to scream, thinking that a night in a cell would be better than what was to come. A hand closed over her mouth and her yelping was muffled. She kept quiet.

"Be quiet," he hissed, and Sito obeyed. She looked up and tried to make out his face. Her attempts were rendered pointless, however, when he hunkered down and crouched beside her.

Sito's eyes widened. "You," she said in realisation. "Merek."

The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "You're cold," he pointed out, gesturing to her shivering form.

She nodded, her teeth chattering. "I'm… I'm fine," she said, despite herself.

He frowned, his delicate eye ridge coming together. "Take this," he said, handing her a blanket.

Hesitantly, she reached her hand out. "What do you want in return?" she asked, her voice bold, but timid nonetheless.

He considered for a moment and knitted his brow. "I want nothing in return," he said coolly.

Sito raised an uncertain eyebrow, before carefully taking the blanket. She wrapped it around her shoulders, covering herself up. "Thank you," she said softly.

"Why are you so frightened?" he finally asked. Sito studied his expression, and presumed that he instantly regretted asking her the question.

She pursed her lips and adjusted the blanket around her. "After today," she began. "I didn't expect a Cardassian to give me a blanket when saying I looked cold."

A flash of embarrassment spread over his cheeks. "I apologise for the behaviour of the Dalin. He is being dealt with accordingly. We Cardassians don't accept such behaviour."

"Even if the victims are Bajoran?" Sito asked.

He hesitated, but slowly nodded in agreement. "Even if they are Bajoran." He looked around the empty space. "We already have a crumbling image. I should not wish it to completely be destroyed."

Sito considered that. She wiped her eyes and snuggled up in the blanket. It didn't carry any particular odour, but was warm, so she didn't much mind.

"What is your name?" Merek asked her, eyeing her closely.

For a brief moment, she said nothing. "Sito Jaxa," she replied in a small voice.

"Starfleet?" he asked.

She nodded. As she turned her head slightly, looking up at the scattered stars, Merek caught sight of something. He looked at her cheek and touched it gently. Sito instantly flinched, but calmed herself when he said, "There's a bruise forming."

Her breathing calmed and she looked down as he took a dermal regeneration device out of his belt. At least, she gathered that it was a dermal regenerator. She didn't know. She had never seen a Cardassian one before. It was tubular and had a bright white light on its tip. Merek held her chin as he scanned the device over her cheek. She clenched her jaw, but relaxed when his hand brushed the back of her neck.

His eyes met hers and she noticed their sea blue quality. For the briefest of moments, his pupils dilated, but quickly retained their natural shape. His sharp chin almost brushed against her face as he leant in closer to complete the quick procedure.

"Sir, thank you," she said gratefully, reaching up to touch her newly healed skin. It felt softer and she smiled slightly.

As he got to his feet, his gaze lingering on hers, she proffered the blanket to him. "Here," she said.

"No, you keep it," he countered.

She nodded and smiled thankfully.

"Morning is almost here," he pointed out.

Sito smiled again, and he almost did to, as he walked away.


	12. Lying Awake

Sito smiled inside as she was handed the food at the canteen. She had slept surprisingly well the night before. The blanket that Gul Merek had given her was pretty warm and was more than a little comfortable. She had brought it with her to her barracks, tucking it safely away in her bed.

She had hoped to bring it with her to her labour shift, but she quickly realised that it would not be possible to so. The day was hot and the air was sticky, so she had had no choice but to leave it behind.

She took a seat by the side of the canteen. There, she was closest to the gate. She'd done that on purpose. The closest she was to the exit, the quicker she would be able to get out of the canteen. Not only because it was stuffy and smelled pretty bad, but because she was desperate to leave the canteen. It was full of sad-looking prisoners and stoically positioned guards. It made her want to cry.

Something made her look to the side, and what confused Sito so was that she did not really know why. She focused her gaze and noticed the dark, jagged shaped building in the distance, unmistakably Cardassian. Strangely, hazy heat-waves didn't hinder her vision, for which she was thankful.

The building was pretty close, and Sito could've sworn she saw movement. The windows were sharp, harshly designed, and let in little light. The windows opened, sliding, much like modern doors did on starships. Sito squinted, slowly taking in mouthfuls of the sloppy food. Blocking the sun out of her eyes with a hand to her forehead, she saw Gul Merek in the window.

He, too, caught sight of her. She saw him smile, his sharp, perfect facial features changing position ever so slightly. He was leaning against the window ledge a bit, drinking what Sito presumed to be Kanar. His expression softened, and she smiled at him, but only briefly, to divert the curious eyes of the guards around them. She wasn't going to risk being thrown in a cell.

An alarm sounded and Sito got to her feet, realising that it meant lunchtime was over. Work would soon begin again. She didn't have time to finish her food, not that there was much of it to finish anyway. She proceeded out of the canteen area, following a crowd of other prisoners, hanging her head as she was brought back to her assigned location.

Different guards had been assigned to 'Chauffeur duty', as Sito called it. They were rougher in temper and in movement, though they looked as though they really couldn't care less one way or the other. They were, after all, stationed on a dreary colony planet that happened to be right next door to their home world. They were not on ships – beautiful, agile, speedy ships, cruising the mysterious and sparkling blanket of the Milky Way. They were not fighting Klingons and destroying the stupid creatures. They were not conducting secret missions to infiltrate the Obsidian Order's enemy, the Tal Shiar. They were not stealing Federation ships and putting an end to their meddlesome ways.

At the end of the day, whichever way one looked at it, they were shunting prisoners from the canteen area to their place of work.

And, their tired, frustrated and angry moods showed through in their handling of the prisoners. When one would fall to their feet, weary from exhaustion, the guards would sneer at them and haul them readily into a standing position, and make them walk twice as fast as the other prisoners. One day, a woman was crying, but it was only a small sob. Sito had watched in horror as a guard grabbed her and slapped her hard across her face, just because they were annoyed by the sound of her lamentation.

Sito had been working for an hour or so when she was forced to look up. She felt someone stand beside her. Turning, she resisted the want to smile. "Gul Merek?" she began, alarmed and surprised, but a tiny part of her was happy and pleaded about it.

Gul Merek stepped forward, and clasped his hands behind his back.

"If you... uh, don't mind me asking," Sito said quietly, stopping her work fora while. "Sir, why are you here?" she concluded her sentence, her eyes running over Gul Merek's high cheekboned face.

He smiled and looked down towards her. "I noticed you didn't have time to finish your food," he told her, his voice tight but somewhat nonchalant.

She brushed a loose stand of hair behind her ear. "I was late in line," she murmured. "I guess, there was a lot of cutting in." It was true, but not only for that day. People cut in all the time. The guards would rarely step in and do anything about it; they were too sadistically amused at the pitiful sight of prisoners scrabbling and fighting over a few scraps of what was barely fit to be called 'food'.

He eyed her thoughtfully. He drew his hands out from behind his back and handed her a parcel. She stared at it shortly, before her curiosity got the better of her and she took it. "What's this?" she asked, frowning lightly, but a smile soon formed on her lips.

He cleared his throat, taking a quick glance around the labour area, watching the Bajoran workers. They looked at him with horrified faces, but, quickly returned to work for fear of their lives. "Open it," he said to her blandly.

She looked at the parcel, and then finally opened. It was a fruit. It reminded her of a Terran mango. "Thank you, Gul Merek," she said softly, appreciatively, but her voice did betray a slight hint of incredulity. A piece of fruit, even if it was a large, juicy mango, would not give her much nutrition. Still, it was a thoughtful gesture. Plus, fruit would be a very welcome change from that pasty slop she had been forced to eat recently. "The guards might notice it, and detain me, though. I can't take this." Her face fell, as she handed the fruit back to him.

Merek shook his head, forcing her to keep the fruit in her hands. He frowned, his eye edges almost drawing together. "If you have any trouble, I'll speak with them," he said.

She pursed her lips and weighed the fruit in her hands. She smiled up at him. "I'll eat this later," she said softly, setting it to one side. Merek followed her hands as she tucked a stray tendril of blonde hair behind her ear. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and sighed. "I hope you enjoy it," he said, before leaving.

Later that day, Gul Merek visited her again.

"Bajoran, you are to report to your barracks," a Dal ordered her. "Bajoran," he repeated himself, this time in a more forceful tone of voice. He stepped forward, but stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of the overseer. "Sorry, Gul, I-" he began, but skulked away, the overseer's steadfast glare boring into him.

Jaxa?" he asked, approaching her as she was about to leave to go to her barracks for the night, and she smiled, but he could tell something was on her mind.

Sito smiled wryly. "Gul?" she asked, confused. "You needn't come here."

Gul Merek frowned. "I wanted to see you," he simply said and Sito noticed a slight blush spread over his sharp cheeks.

Sito couldn't resist a smile. "Your men will think it odd. Perhaps you should go." As soon as those words left her mouth, she felt as though she wanted to slap herself. Nothing unconventional was going on between the two of them. Nothing strange and certainly nothing illegal or immoral. Jaxa! a voice inside her head yelled at her angrily. What in the name of the Prophets do you think you're doing? She shook her head. I'm not doing anything wrong. Am I?

However, Gul Merek obviously did not quite agree with her view. He took something off his belt and handed it to her.

"Please, I can't," she said, dismissing his gesture.

He thrust the object into her hands and she had no option but to take it. "Take it," he ordered. "I won't have people under my jurisdiction malnourished."

She frowned and wanted to protest; could he not see that there were people in a worse state than she was? But she couldn't find the words. Tentatively, she took the water and looked curiously at it. He nodded to her, and she brought it up to her lips and drank.

"Tell me," she began in a hushed voice, looking hesitantly out around them. The orange sun of Cardassia had set and the cool air of night was sweeping over them. "Why did you give me the food… and the water?"

"Did you not like it?" he asked, looking confused. He stood still, his shoulders squared.

"No, no," she began quickly, the words flooding out of her mouth. "It's not that. It's that I don't feel comfortable with this."

"With what?" he asked, cocking an eye ridge.

She sighed and wanted to sit down, but stayed standing. "You're Cardassian, and I'm Bajoran," she stated. "It's not... right."

"I wasn't aware that we were doing anything wrong," he said bluntly.

"No," she said quickly. "I didn't mean that. I only meant that I don't want to accept help from a Cardassian."

He frowned and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I see," he said slowly, almost sullenly. "Come, I'll take you back go your barracks." He gestured for her to follow him. "You can keep the water."

Sito started to follow him, but paused. She shook her head. "We could stay here a little longer," she said abruptly.

Gul Merek turned around to face her. He looked at her as she stood there, her red dress billowing a little in the wind. "If you wish," he agreed.

She drank a tiny bit more of the water, before she set it aside on a nearby rock outcrop.

They sat in silence for some time, with the air still except for the occasional gust of wind or scurrying vole. Merek was watching her intently, though whenever she turned around to face him, he would abruptly turn away.

"I am sorry," he muttered.

Sito frowned. "What... Oh," she said, realising.

"If I had it my way, you would not be on this planet. In this penal colony." He interlaced his fingers in his lap.

"Why are you here?" she asked. "I mean, as overseer, then?" She paused, then added, "Gul Merek."

He sighed. "I need the money. The Occupation took a lot of things from a lot of people."

Sito couldn't control herself. "I know that," she said through gritted teeth.

He didn't apologise. Instead, he exhaled loudly and pursed his lips. "It's late. Perhaps this was a bad idea." He got to his feet and Sito promptly followed.

As they walked out of the labour camp, they caught sight of a guard. Merek approached him. "You are dismissed," he said.

Obediently, the guard nodded, but an essence of interest stayed in his eyes.

"I will leave you now," Gul Merek suddenly said brashly, his blue eyes meeting hers. His gaze flickered down to her lips.

Sito hesitated and nodded. Her barracks were ten metres away, more or less. He returned to his office and she returned to her bed, lying awake on top of the hard covers. The guards had let her pass.

In his office, Gul Merek was drinking Kanar. He rubbed his forehead and set the large glass down on the desk. He called up some data on his computer and scanned the screen. He reached the prisoner index file, and opened it. He flicked through it, staring absentmindedly until he came across Sito Jaxa's file. He stopped and read it, smiling thoughtfully.

He pondered the information that was displayed on the computer screen, stroking his chin in thought. He wondered why Starfleet had not yet come to retrieve their missing ensign, and then he realised he was blanking out the obvious. Starfleet had not come for Sito because they had no idea where she was, not because they could not be bothered to waste resources and go out in search for her. It was times like that when Merek forgot how very different his race was from humans, Bajorans.

He picked up the Kanar and stared into it thoughtlessly. He yawned, but was not tired. He was confused.


	13. The Truth Comes Out

"I have been reading up on your files," Gul Merek said, in between tentative sips of his Kanar.

Sito watched him with incredulous eyes, as he sat there behind his severely crafted desk. "Is that why you asked me here?" she quizzed him, still maintain eye contact. She took a quick glance around the room. It was dull and poorly furnished. In fact, it was very poorly furnished. Inside Gul Toran's office, Sito could remember it as having been a little brighter and with a tiny bit more life. Gul Merek's, on the other hand, was stark and practically devoid of colour.

The only thing that could have been called a 'decoration' was a food replicator that sat in the far corner, as well as a cabinet filled with all sorts of bottles. Sito guessed it was all filled with Kanar of different strengths and colours. It looked quite pretty, she would even go so far to say. She knew Cardassians were likely too proud and xenophobic to showcase their possession of alien beverages.

"Not at all." He shook his head and set his glass down. He turned his computer screen, so that Sito, too, could see it properly.

Suddenly growing uncomfortable, Sito swallowed. "What do you want me to do?" she asked. "Read it?" She scanned the computerised image with quick eyes and found herself paling when she reached the end of the last sentence.

Bajoran. Starfleet. Ensign. Guidance systems down. Captive. The words ran through her mind and guilt began to form on her features.

A smile ghosted on his lips. "Is it the truth?" he asked.

She frowned, her neat brow furrowing. "What do you mean?" she asked him.

"I was referring to what you told my colleague," he then explained further.

"Your colleague?"

"Gul Toran," he elaborated, forming a steeple out of his hands on the desk.

Sito resettled in her seat and crossed her legs, trying to look more comfortable then she really was. "I don't understand," she said truthfully. She had remembered every detail she had told Toran of the moments building up to her capture. The memory plagued her.

Merek sighed, but he didn't looked particularly chagrined. "Regarding your escape. I want to know if it was truthful, or if you were deceiving us." As he spoke those last few words, his gaze darkened.

Sito nodded, the movement swift and full of fervour, but the conviction died down "I wasn't… deceiving you," she said in a small voice.

He raised a curious eye ridge. "You were not?" he asked, a hint of condescension in his voice.

Sito's lip wavered a little and she had to clamp her jaw shut to stop it moving anymore. "No, I – I wasn't," she concluded uncertainly.

"Don't lie to me," he said sternly. Sito didn't like his tone; it did not suit him.

She bit her lip. "I wasn't," she said, holding her chin up, trying to fight back the wave that was trying to strike her down.

From across the desk, he glared at her. "I trust you have heard of our…" he paused. "Torture methods," he finished.

She swallowed, but her throat caught. "I – yes." She fought to retain her stony expression.

"They are unrivalled in the galaxy," he said, with a small hint of sadistic pride. "Even the Tal Shiar cannot equal them."

A tear glinted in Sito's eye, but she didn't not wipe it away. Instead, she held it back. "I am a Starfleet officer. I won't give you any information that could jeopardise my ship or my crewmates, or the Federation."

Idly, he pursed his lips. "I am not much of an advocate for torturing prisoners."

Instantly, she lifted her head up and looked at him. Had she heard him right? Not an advocate for torturing prisoners.

"I find it does more harm than good," he continued. "But, not all agree with my view. You need to tell me the truth."

His gaze bore into her and she unfolded her legs, sitting forward in her seat. "The truth?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

He nodded firmly, slowly.

She was quiet for a long time, but she knew that it would be better for her – and probably for many other people – if she told Gul Merek. He had been kinder to her than the rest of the Cardassians at the penal colony. If there was anyone who would listen to her story, it would likely be him. "My Captain," she began, "he chose me for this mission, but he said it was my choice. I chose to go." And look how it turned out, she thought derisively.

"And, what mission would that be?" he asked, watching her every move.

She swallowed. "They needed a Bajoran, you see. And, I was the only Bajoran crewmember available."

"Why did they need a Bajoran?" he asked her incredulously.

"I was assigned to help escort a Cardassian back to his homeworld," she answered, a swathe of guilt almost burying her. She hated the thought of betraying Joret. "I was to pose as their prisoner."

He cocked an eye ridge. "A Cardassian? What for?"

She looked down at her hands as they sat idly in her lap. "He was a double agent."

"A double agent?" he repeated, getting interested, but slightly alarmed.

"Yes. He works for Cardassia and the Federation," she said in a hushed tone.

Merek smiled, and Sito couldn't tell if it was sincere or mocking. "How interesting," he said meditatively. "What was his name?"

Is, Sito wanted to say. What is his name? She didn't want anything bad to happen to Joret – if, indeed, he was still alive, so she kept quiet on that particular front. "Please, Merek," she said, her voice quavering. "Please, don't make me tell you."

Merek looked pensive, rubbing the bridge of his nose absentmindedly. At last, he spread his hands on the table and sighed. "I will have to include everything you have told me to the database, understand that."

Sito nodded. "I understand… Gul Merek." She hesitated, and then asked, "I thought you wanted to know his name?" She knew it would probably just come back to bite her later on, so she asked him then.

"That is not important," he said stiffly. "The Federation was wrong to send you on that mission."

She blinked. "Wrong?"

"I simply mean, you are far too young to be risking your life like that," he elaborated.

The Bajoran just shrugged. "Like I said, I chose to do it."

"All the same," he countered, his expression softening.

"I only did what I thought was right," she continued. "I thought all Cardassians were bastards." She paled and promptly apologised. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

He waved a dismissive hand, so she picked up where she had left off. "Then, when I stepped into the shuttlecraft with J— the Cardassian, I realised that, maybe, I was wrong." She wondered if he had picked up on her revealing the first letter of Joret's name.

Apparently not. "I am glad you have changed your mind," he declared, a thin smile on his lips.

"I have not," she said indignantly. "Only slightly." She was about to stand up when she remembered that she would have to be dismissed. "I just wanted to say thank you for the help you've given me."

"You helped a Cardassian," he said, having worked it out. She wondered how. "I thought it only fair."

Sito agreed, but wondered if there was an ulterior motive to his actions of helping her.

"Have you finished the fruit?" he asked, putting an end to her curiosity-driven train of thought.

She stared at him blankly for a short while. And then she remembered what he was referring to. "Oh, yes," she replied, holding back a smile of gratitude.

"I trust you enjoyed it?" he asked.

The fruit was very sweet, but Sito found its taste to be more than agreeable. She didn't want him to look downcast, as much as it confused and disgusted her. He was the enemy, she should want him to feel sadness and defeat. However, he was also the only Cardassian on the colony who had shown her the damnedest bit of respect. That being said, she nodded. "It was very nice," she finally replied.

He nodded and smiled, obviously pleased with her response. "If I am correct, labour resumes soon."

Sito's face darkened. "It does?" she asked. "Oh, it does," she then repeated, realising what the time was. She stood up. "May I leave?"

For a time, Gul Merek sat there and pursed his lips in thought. "It would not be untoward if you were to stay a little while longer."

Sito watched him with curious eyes. A muscle in his sculpted jaw twitched and he squared his shoulders. "I must return to my labour duties," she finally said, the words coming out in rather a hurry.

He, too, stood up. "Yes. That would be… best." He hunkered down marginally and keyed a few things into his computer. It emitted a single beeping sound. "Affirmative," the androgynous voice acknowledged. "I have arranged for a guard to escort you back to your labour site," he announced, looking up and standing at his full height again.

So he invites me here for a chat, after giving me food and water, and then has me escorted back to work? Sito thought to herself, her confusion growing as each word formed in her head. She knew better than to argue with a Cardassian, regardless of the fact that they seemed to be on her side. She had seen what happened to prisoners who disobeyed or even stumbled whilst walking. Nothing seemed to escape the watchful eyes of the Cardassians. So, she nodded and he stepped aside, letting her pass.

"I would not be against it if you were to visit me again," he said abruptly.

A smiled tugged at the corner of her mouth as she was whisked away by a very intrigued Garresh. He shackled her hands in front of her and took her back to her labour site, handing her the required tools. He didn't leave as soon as he had dropped her off, though, which confused Sito. No, it alarmed her. He watched her intently for a second or two, before resuming his duties elsewhere.

Sito couldn't help but wonder why he had been looking at her for an unusually long amount of time. As she began chiselling away at the dense, fiery rock, she heard someone working next to her. Sito turned to face them and saw that it was a raggedy, middle-aged woman. She was thin and had deep lines of weariness and contempt buried into her face.

"Are you new?" the shabby looking woman asked Sito, whilst still knocking away at the wall. She coughed and spluttered, and not only when the dust particles from the rock face went down her throat or up her nose.

Sito continued her work and tried not to take notice of the woman. She knew what had happened to Kitos Moran when she had been talking to him. She didn't think she could bear to have it on her conscience again if it were to happen to the woman, or indeed to herself.

"Girl," the woman said, rubbing her own nose with the back of a dirty hand. Sito saw that the woman was human. "There's no need to worry about getting caught."

Sito looked at the woman and frowned. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly.

"I'm a withered old hag," she said. "They won't even bother killing me."

Sito wanted to ask, What about me?

As if she had read her mind, the woman added, "Judging from the amount of time that damned overseer spends with you, I think it's safe to say that you won't be high on anyone's killing list here."

Sito didn't much like her choice of words. Killing list. She trembled involuntarily. "I thought that was protocol," she answered sheepishly.

The woman gave her a look – the kind of look that mothers give their children when they know something. "Protocol? Nah," she said, scoffing.

Sito stepped away from the older woman slightly, trying in vain to focus her attention on the work they were meant to be doing.

"I presume you were wondering why that bloody guard was watching you," she said.

Sito almost jumped out of her skin. "He wasn't watching me."

"You and I both know it was odd how he stared at you for so long," the woman said. "Don't get me wrong, you are a pretty little thing, but that was strange."

"I don't know what you mean," Sito said huffily.

"The overseer does not ask prisoners – especially Bajoran prisoners to come to his office," she said simply. "It just does not happen."

She was in too much of a daze to even wonder how the human woman had figured that out. "Well it happened to me," Sito snapped, but she was too confused for her tone to betray much anger.

"Precisely," the woman proclaimed.

"I'm Starfleet," Sito stated. "That was why he wished to talk with me. He asked me about my mission." Sito believed what she, herself, had said, but that was then. As the minutes ticked by, she was beginning to wonder if she did truly accept them as true.


	14. To Regret?

Sito barely managed to evade the steadfast, irritatingly knowing gaze of the human woman as they all proceeded to lunch. The soldiers roughly pushed them in line, making a uniform train of starving, weeping prisoners as they shuffled along the dusty ground, eager to get the canteen area first.

Their shackles were removed and Sito had managed to get a reasonable good place in the line. She was not directly at the front, nor was she the runt of the litter. The slop was shoveled with little care – as always – onto her metal plate, and she located a suitable seat. She sat down and began wolfing down the meal. She didn't care about whether she looked ladylike or not.

To her frustration, though she was also quite happy for the company that she never seemed to get in the canteen, the human female took a seat at the same table. The woman sat herself down and smiled. "Hello, Bajoran," she said.

Sito looked up from her now finished meal. It certainly was a let down from the delicious fruit Gul Merek had given to her. "Good morning," Sito said, her mind almost aching from the irony of the word 'good'.

"How have you been?" the woman asked, watching her closely.

Sito shrugged. "You know how I've been," she replied.

"You do get used to the workload," the human said. "Somewhat."

Sito wryly smiled and was about to stand up to get rid of her plate when a guard come to her. "Sito Jaxa?" he asked her.

She nodded warily and the human woman sat in front of her watched the incident with eager eyes.

The guard checked his PADD. "Prisoner identification 990130?"

Sito sat in silence. "Yes, well… I don't really know."

The guard stiffened and looked at his PADD again. "That is correct." He looked at her. "Stand up. Follow me."

Sito didn't question his orders – she knew far better than that. So, she pushed her chair back, got to her feet and sullenly followed the guard.

Dal Korin led her out of the canteen. He said something in Cardassian, which Sito could not discern, to the officers who were guarding the gate to the canteen. She found herself on the now familiar route to Gul Merek's office complex. Adjacent to the overseer's office, but in a separate building, was that of Gul Toran. Attached to Merek's office was his personal living space.

The Dal lead her through the winding, yet somehow uniform corridors of the office complex. They reached the door to the overseer's office and stopped. "Overseer Merek," the Dal said fluently. "You requested prisoner 990130. She is here."

Inside his office, Gul Merek stopped pacing. He put down his Kanar and cleared his throat. His brow furrowed as he tried to recall the name of prisoner 990130. "Ah," he said into the commpanel. "Bring her in."

The Dal obliged obediently and proceeded to type in an access code – which he was very careful to not let Sito see – and the door slid open. Sito was shunted inside by the Dal, who promptly left, without being told to do so by his commander.

Sito stood there awkwardly in front of Gul Merek. "Hello," she said in a small voice, looking idly around the room.

"I am happy you came to see me," he announced. He stood still for a while, before hesitating and finally walking toward her.

She flinched ever so slightly as he came closer. "I didn't dare decline the Dal's order," she told him.

Merek stopped in his tracks. "Yes. I was not thinking."

She frowned, but only a little.

"I trust no one has been giving you trouble?" he asked, showing genuine concern that made Sito shudder slightly. "Cardassian or otherwise?" he added.

Sito blinked and stared emptily at him. "Oh… no," she quickly replied. She didn't want to anger him or disappoint him, let alone drop her fellow 'criminals' in it. "I have been fine… so to speak."

Merek nodded and draped his hands behind his back, as he so often did. "Good," he said monotonously. "None of my officers have been giving you bother?"

Sito shook her head. "Merek, why have you asked me here?" she finally asked, fretting slightly over what his reaction would be.

He stepped forward. "You are of great interest to me, Jaxa," he declared.

"I am?" she asked incredulously.

He nodded. Firmly. "Yes. Very much."

"Really?"

Stepping forward, he reached up to touch her face, running his thumb down her cheek and brushing a stray tendril of blonde hair away from her face. Sito stepped back and flinched away.

"Don't be afraid," he said softly.

Sito stilled, but backed away. "What are you doing?" she asked, but before she knew it, she had one of her hands on his cheek. She felt an impulse to remove it; the rough, ridged texture alarmed her, but she did not. She stood on the tips of her toes as he leant his head down and touched his lips to hers. His lips moved surprisingly delicately against hers, and she let her hands roam around his thick, black hair. He tasted cool water on her lips and increased the force of the kiss. Sito breathed into his open mouth and broke away, his arms still around her waist.

He looked down at her.

"I can't do this," she said softly, trying not to look him in the eye, but the blue irises wouldn't let her look anywhere else. She wanted to back away, but didn't.

He furrowed his brow. "Why?" he asked.

Sito shrugged and made a noncommittal gesture. "I just… It's not…" She shook her head. "I just can't. I'm sorry."

"I do not understand," he stated bluntly.

Sito hesitated, and then took her hands off his face. "It isn't right."

"What isn't?" he asked.

She hated the questions, but he was the overseer and she was the prisoner, so she complied "This," she exclaimed. "It's not right. I'm supposed to be the prisoner. I can't kiss you."

"You just did," he countered, and the blandness of his voice irritated her.

She stepped away. "I can't live with the fact that I have just kissed the man who runs a penal colony!" she quipped angrily, no longer bothering to conform to prison rules. That ship had sailed a long time ago.

Merek frowned at her. "I see," he said rather glumly.

Sito rubbed her forehead. "I'm sorry," she said finally.

"No, don't apologise," he argued. "It is I who acted inappropriately."

Sito shook her head. "Gul Merek," she began hesitantly. "What is your first name?"

He stiffened slightly. "Donal." His eyes flickered back up to hers.

"Donal," she repeated quietly.

"You can go back to your barracks," he said. "If it makes you in a better frame of mind, I have send orders to the Detapa Council, asking for more water for the prisoners."

Sito pursed her lips in thought. "What did they reply?"

"I haven't received one yet," he said, etchings of contempt rising in his voice. "I doubt I will, to be honest."

"What makes you say that… sir?" she asked.

"They don't care about what happens in penal colonies," he muttered. He shook his head. "Don't call me sir."

She frowned. "Why not?"

"Because I am telling you not to," he said, rather indignantly.

Sito almost rolled her eyes. "What should I call you then?"

"Donal is acceptable," he said blandly.

Sito smiled and nodded. "Donal it is." The voice that had told her previously to sever all ties with Overseer Merek started to arrive again, but she brushed it away. She didn't want to hear from it now.

"You are quite beautiful," he said idly.

Sito felt a blush spread over her cheeks, but soon reigned it in. "I… what?" she asked, confused and taken by surprise.

"I had to tell you," he admitted, looking annoyed with himself.

Absentmindedly, Sito brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and smiled.

Merek took a tentative step forward and leant down to kiss her cheek. Sito turned her head and his lips caught her mouth. His hands clasped the small of her back and she had her arms entwined around his neck, gently stroking the delicate ridges that rose and fell there. The kiss was warm and chaste, and lasted only a short while. Nonetheless, it was much more mentionable than their first.

A beeping sound on the commpanel chirped and Merek pulled away. Sito stood in the darkness and watched him as he elegantly keyed in command codes and ordered some dithering officer to stop bothering him.

"Night is almost here," she said. "I must go."

Merek took hold of her arm as she went to leave and be escorted by a watchful guard. He looked down at her; into her eyes, but broke the contact and watched her leave.


	15. What Defines a Mistake?

The human woman frowned at Sito, watching her closely in the barracks. It had never occurred to Sito to ask the woman who exactly she was. Briefly, she had wondered if she was a spy. Perhaps the Cardassians were paying the woman to learn Federation secrets. Sito soon shook her head free of such an idea.

"I am quite surprise you haven't worked it out, yet," the human said, almost scoldingly, to Sito.

The young Bajoran scowled slightly at her. "I don't understand," he said huffily. She stared idly at her appearance in the grubby mirror.

Suddenly, the woman leant forward. She was much closer to Sito now. Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "I am going to tell you something. I would've thought you would have works it out by now, but I shall attribute your slowness to shock."

Sito nodded slowly, an air of uneasy scepticism seeping into her brain. She sat on her bunk and continued, nonetheless, to watch the human woman as she spoke.

The woman took her silence as an incentive for her to elaborate. "You told me that you were Starfleet," she said, her voice a little whisper. "So am I."

Sito stayed silent for some time. "I don't understand."

"You do."

"I know this-" she stopped and recollected her thoughts. "Gul Toran, he told me that this barracks was specifically for Starfleet officers." She sighed. "It just didn't occur to me, that you were Starfleet, I guess."

The Starfleet woman nodded, looking rather pensive. "Lieutenant Charlie Boothby," she introduced herself.

"Lieutenant?" Sito repeated. "Congratulations." A half-smile started to form on her lips.

Boothby smiled, and Sito saw how beautiful she really was.

Guards came into their barracks at night, ordering that the prisoners go to sleep. Sito lay back in bed and half-hoped, half-dreaded, that an officer would tell her that Merek wished to speak with her.

The night fell silent and the air around them mostly stilled. "Are you a spy?" Sito asked the question that had often nagged her, but only once all the Cardassians had left and she felt the coast was clear.

Boothby chuckled quietly. "No. I was captured. On Gliese Prime."

"Gliese Prime?" Sito asked slightly incredulously, her eyes widening. "That's a Cardassian planet, isn't it? What were you doing there?"

Boothby looked as though she might smile, but her expression remained neutral. "It used to be a neutral planet. Not Federation. Not Cardassian." She sighed and adjusted her sleeping position.

"The Cardassians invaded and took you prisoner?" Sito asked, twiddling a strand of blonde hair, as she so often did when she was nervous or worried.

Assertively, Boothby nodded. "That's exactly what happened."

"What about the rest of your away team?" Sito asked him, after a while. "Are they-" she broke off. "I mean," she started again. "Are they here, too?"

The human shook her head. "No. The first officer, he did survive the ambush," she replied sadly. "You see, the rest of our team were killed in the ambush."

Sito swallowed. "Where is he, now?" she asked in a small voice.

"A rock face he was mining collapsed. It killed him and nine others."

The lack of emotion in Boothby's reply pained Sito, to say the least. The terror in the lieutenant's eyes made contact with Sito. She wondered if the first officer's fate would be similar to her own. A shiver, short but definitely there, shook down her spine.

"You see," Boothby spoke again, calming herself down slightly. "They send the men down the mines. Men are stronger and can take more beatings, more weight. Us, women, we have the simpler, less physically demanding task of chiselling absentmindedly away at bits of cliff."

Sito nodded. That sounds about right. She did disagree – somewhat – though, as the chiselling away at mineral-filled rock was not only boring and tedious, but was reasonably difficult. Sito had, in only her short amount of time on the penal colony, seen quite a number of prisoners cutting their fingers pretty severely on the crude, basically Stone Age tools. Although, she gathered that it was much worse in other parts of the colony.

It was a large planet, though was considerably smaller than the massive world of Cardassia Prime. In fact, she knew that there were worse areas of the little lump of space rock. She had not seen them herself, for which she was thankful for the saving of her eyes, but sad because it only intensified her ignorance. Theentire planet was used for the treatment, penalisation, punishment and probably execution.

Kitos Moran. He was male and he had been working with her, but Sito remembered how very tired he looked. The action of bringing Moran into her mind snapped something inside of her. He had died... hours after she had finished talking to him.

It was so much information for Sito to take in, but she managed it. She did, however, have many dilemmas and worries plaguing her consciousness as she reported to labour duty the following day.

That day, Sito noticed a pair of prisoners fighting over something. It wasn't in the canteen, it was in the labour space – the work that prisoners had to earn working at. It was not a wonderful occupation, but was much, much better than having to spend every hour of every day down the dingy, dusty, foreboding and often death-bringing mines.

She was very wary not to attract the attention of the ever-watchful guards by the rock face; they stood there, staring out into nothingness, not even talking to each other, but it seemed that they were more at home with their guns than with their colleagues.

As Sito craned her neck in closer, she saw the men. They were young, barely past adolescence. They were scrawny and tall, the both of them. Sito managed to look one of them in the eye, and the worry lines were surely there; lines that would look out of place even on a pensioner. Their hair was dirty and was reasonably long, but not past their shoulders.

The fitter, apparently healthier man threw a punch at the weaker one, and they were soon in a full-on conflict. Punches were thrown, legs lashed out, blood spewed, and even a few teeth got knocked out. Not one of the guards standing by stepped in. Sito watched partially in horror and disgust – that the Spoonheads could find pleasure in watching two of their prisoners, but nonetheless, people in their care, however reluctant, fight of one piece of food.

Sito saw how minute the portion was. It was a loaf of bread. She didn't even need to focus more closely to see what state the bread was in; it was most likely mouldy. It's the twenty-fourth century, Sito thought, shaking her head, and we are fighting over a slice of mouldy bread. Finally, her Starfleet initiative got the better of her. It had been at the back of her mind.

Taking a breath, she stepped forward. To her surprise, but anxious surprise, the guards lifted their heads up and watched her closely, but did not intervene. "Men," she said, claiming an authoritative voice of unknown origin. "Please, stop fighting."

They did not even look up at her. They continued their petty feud, placing one another in headlocks of varying strengths, and then trying – and mostly failing, for they were weak, the air was hot and sticky and oxygen seemed to be in somewhat short supply, and were not trained combatants – to land successfully hits and socks at their opponent. Sito saw that they hated what they were doing, but it was done purely out of necessity.

She sighed and held her breath, Starfleet rules and regulations starting to come to the fore in her brain. "This is Sito Jaxa of the U.S.S. Enterprise. By Starfleet order oh-nine-four-three, section fifteen, paragraph one, I order that you cease fighting." That order was in fact meant to be employed when persuading enemy ships – or, indeed, one's own ships – to stop engaging the other in conflict. Sito knew that the combatants would not know that, so she donned her domineering voice and spoke it loud and clear.

Sito stepped forward, almost directly in between the two fighting, squabbling men. She instantly drew back when she felt a hard fist land on her collarbone. She wheezed, spluttering, and driving backwards. She knew they had not meant for the hit to land on her, but that didn't change the fact that it hurt. A lot.

Almost instantly, with little lag, the men – a Bajoran and a Betazoid – stopped their bickering.

That was when the guards, now apparently in their respective 'comfort zones', took on an active role. Briskly, they marched forward and each took an aggressor in their arms. Sito watched as they left, but they did not walk too far.

"Prisoner 990130?" one of the guards questioned the gathering of prisoners abruptly.

Sheepishly, Sito Jaxa stepped forward, clutching her wounded collarbone. Into the line of fire, or into the limelight? she mused.

He adjusted his grip on the struggling Betazoid. "You are ordered by the overseer, Merek."

Sito almost blushed, but instantly held back the growing reddening of her cheeks. "Yes, sir," she replied, an inkling of Starfleet protocol still left. She winced, the movement of speaking hurt her injury.

"Not yet. I have not said so," the same guard demanded. He jerked his head in the direction of another squadron of guards. "You Starfleet people are, whilst limited—" he smirked "—reasonably intelligent. You are two great a risk to escort whilst myself and Glinn Tobeka are otherwise engaged."

Sito bowed her head a little, but her new injury restricted the depth of the action somewhat, showing the two guards that she knew her place was below them.

Sito moaned and held her injured shoulder tightly. Her grip was so steadfast that her fingers actually began to ache from the excessive pressing. The guards had shackled her hands, so did not pay much attention to physically holding her themselves.

She was plonked in the overseer's quarters. She grimaced and almost yelped in response to the tingle of pain shot through her chest. Her action of instantly reaching up to caress her injured collarbone brought the attention of Gul Merek.

Before he could comment, however, she quickly said, "I apologise for the interruption, overseer." He had been looking at something on the computer system. "Your guards ordered that I speak with you." She swallowed when he met her gaze. "It sounded rather urgent."

Merek nodded thoughtfully, as if considering what had just been said to him. "They were right to convey their message with such urgency."

Confused, Sito lifted an eyebrow. "You know what happened at the rock face?" she asked incredulously. How could he know?

The overseer pursed his lips in thought, then leant back in his chair – looking far too relaxed for Sito's liking. "I saw everything that I needed to."

Sito stumbled back, still holding her wounded collarbone. "I don't understand. How… sir?" He didn't reply for some time, so Sito hurriedly added, "If you don't mind my asking."

"I am the overseer, Jaxa," he said solemnly.

She shivered, but could not figure out if the shiver was pleasant or not, as he mentioned her name. Her given name, not her family name.

He continued. "I have eyes and ears all over this miserable rock." Something in his expression hardened, but Sito knew as well as he that the expression did not suit him. "Closed-circuit surveillance monitors cover half the planet." He looked her in the eye. "I saw how you stopped that… altercation."

Sito nodded. "I wasn't going to let them knock each other out," she quipped. She paused, thinking, and then added, "The guards assigned there… they were not doing anything to help."

Merek frowned. "It is not their responsibility to break up petty disputes between Bajorans." He said the last word with such contempt that it shook Sito to the core. She stood there, still, alarmed and confused and… disgusted.

"Maybe if you gave them – us – enough food and water to start off with, there wouldn't be any 'altercations'," she said angrily. She had to grit her teeth to stop more words from coming out.

Overseer Merek suddenly stood up. In a swift movement, he approached the now shaking mass that was Sito. She touched her clavicle and inched backwards.

"If you were any officer of mine, I would have you court martialled for taking that tone with me, child,"he snapped.

Sito wondered what to think if his choice of words. Why hasn't he mentioned my being a prisoner?she asked herself, knitting her brow. Child? I'm no child! He's barely older than me!

She summoned up the courage to speak. "But I am not one of your officers, Gul."

Sharply, he nodded, but the slightest hint of a dilemma presented itself to her in the form of a glistening in his eye, an uneasiness in his voice. "I know. I can have you executed. Or put to work in the mines."

She knew he wouldn't. Would he? Uncomfortable, she swallowed. "Would you?"

He sighed and rubbed his temples. "You know I wouldn't." He saw her expression soften, but it was laced with perplexity. "I would not subject the prisoners on the colony to such… conditions."

Sito's heart raced and she knew Merek had noticed. "Sir," she said. "I think, maybe, I should return to duty – labour, I mean."

But, Merek had already shot his hand out, touching hers as it clutched her shoulder. She looked down at his cold, grey hand. "You sustained this today?" he asked her.

Sito nodded, trying to step away. Gul Merek moved her hand to her side. Her collarbone was bruised, quite a bit, and it was starting to show above the neckline of the almost gauzy, cheap, red fabric. He stopped moving and talking for a brief moment, considering.

"Come," he decided abruptly. "I shall treat this."

She wasn't sure if she really wanted him closer to her than he already was. "It doesn't hurt," she protested. "I am fine." She winced in pain when he touched her injury, even though the pressure applied was only slight. She smiled through thin lips, and so did he. Breaking their eye contact, he retrieved a dermal regenerator. He turned it on and the dim light started emanating from one end of it. He held it up, so that the shining end almost made contact with her clavicle.

"Move your hand," he instructed, and she sheepishly did so.

The curing process had taken very little time, and Sito wasn't entirely sure if she was happy for that or not. Regardless, she knew she had to set aside some time for marvelling at modern technology.

He slipped the device away and Sito touched her now healed shoulder tenderly. "Thank you," she said softly, in spite of the situation. "That's the second time you've done that."

Merek stiffened, and they were standing so close that she could feel it. "There is no need to thank me." He shrugged. "I was only seeing to the medical requirements of a prisoner."

Before Sito could control it, her face fell. Prisoner.

"There appears to be more life in you already," he announced, a glint of happiness in his eye.

She only nodded.

"I should like to bring to to my personal quarters," he suddenly proposed.

For a while, the young Bajoran stayed silent. She was thinking, not sure whether she should feel disgusted of herself or not.

Those thoughts, however, were brushed away by some unknown force. She nodded, hesitantly, but the movement was still there. It was noticeable for Merek to discern it. He sent a message out to his men, which Sito could not decipher. It was sent in Cardassian. Whilst she could read a little of it, it was only rusty. She had gotten the gist of it, though. Something along the lines of: Frontier guards, the location of prisoner 990130 is nothing to concern yourself with. You will be informed when said prisoner is due to be returned to either labour or barracks.

A wash of warm air swept over Sito as she entered the overseer's persona quarters. They were sparsely decorated, much like his office. It carried no particular scent, but the temperature was pretty high. Briefly, Sito wondered if she could ask him to lower the heat levels, but she refrained. She wouldn't speak to him unless spoken to.

"Please," he said with welcoming ambiguity. "Make yourself comfortable." He gestured to a couch, and Sito awkwardly sat on it. It was cold and hard and less than comfortable. Merek was about to sit beside her, but obviously changed his mind. He went to the food replicator, and Sito's stomach felt the pang of hunger.

"I presume you are hungry?" he asked of her.

"Yes," she said quickly. She then added, "If it would not be too much trouble, I should like some food."

A smile touched his lips and he carried out her wish. He handed her some food - more fruit, but she was more than thankful. It was only after she had swallowed the last chunk of the fruit that she felt the guilt. She longed to be able to give the other captives more food, too. Granted, some of them were actually real criminals, but even then, they had rights. She saw something in Gul Merek's voice, his approach, his actions and his words, that showed her that he didn't want to harm the prisoners. That only added to her confusion.

His looming presence brought a shadow over her as he sat beside her. "You can tell me about Bajor," he said strangely.

She frowned and looked up at him. "I don't understand."

"If talking of your homeworld will make you more receiving of my advances, then I will oblige," he stated.

She wondered why he wasn't drinking Kanar. Or anything. He had drunk what she presumed to be water - replicated water on their arrival at his quarters. To impress me? She shook her head. Don't be stupid, Sito.

"I'd rather not," she replied solemnly.

He shrugged, unperturbed by her response. In fact, he was... pleased. "As you wish," he said bluntly. He reached his hand out and stroked her cheek. She started to flinch away from his cool touch, but was alarmed to find that she did not want to. She leant into his hand, instead. He tucked a tendril of stray blonde hair behind her ear and leant forward. The tips of their noses brushed against one another, and so did their lips. Taking her head in his hands, they leant in and he pressed his lips to hers. His kisses were slow and methodical. The hard, bumpy, yet intriguing texture of his eye ridges as they touched her forehead nearly made her jump back, but she soon got used to it.

Her hands moved to touch his neck and she idly, gently, ran her fingers over the slender ridges, feeling the varying embossments. He gripped her head and she broke away from the kiss, wincing. He gave her a questioning look. "That hurt," she informed him.

"I apologise," he said, calming down. "Cardassians usually-"

She interrupted him with another kiss. She hated the sheer impulse that drove into her. She felt so weak and naive and idiotic, but she knew that she needed to be on his side if she was to stand a good chance of escaping.

His hands travelled down her back and she gasped. He let go, which confused her. He reached behind him and undid his bulky uniform cuirass, whereupon it fell to the floor with a loud clang. She watched with curious eyes as he stripped off his black over-tunic and grey under-shirt. Before she could take the time to stare at his slim, toned, but scaly chest, he had pulled her back to him.

"You are beautiful," he declared when their lips were momentarily free.

Sito was expecting him to add: for a Bajoran to his declaration, but he did not. She knew very well where their actions would take them, and she was quite determined to stop that from happening. So, she pulled back from him - after he had issued yet another kiss - and managed to plaster a smile; a loving, wanting gesture, on her lips.

"What is wrong?" he asked, and he leant forward to nuzzle her neck.

Sito looked down at him and resisted the seemingly delectable urge of running her fingers though his thick, jet-black hair. She stiffened, but only a little. "Gul Merek," she said in a soft tone.

He stopped. "Don't call me that. There is no need for formalities."

Tell me about it, she thought, realising the Cardassian aptitude for stating the obvious.

"Donal," he reminded her.

She gave in. "Gul - Donal, I was wondering..." Her voice faded out as she thought of something to say. "If I would be able to try some Kanar."

This ought to buy me some time, she thought.

Obviously, he looked annoyed and more than perplexed, but he respected her wishes - which unnerved Sito - and called for two glasses of Kanar from the replicator.

Evidently, Cardassians were wrong - not that Sito would ever tell Merek that - Kanar tasted foul. It was far too bitter and strong. Its gloppy consistency caught in her mouth and she choked on several occasions.

She downed two glasses, and by then, she was beginning to feel a little incapacitated. Minutes later, that feeling had intensified and her voice slurred. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but, through her bleary vision, she could see that Merek was coping fine. He was grinning and articulate and calm, as if he had had no more than half a glass of Terran wine.

The next period of time - however long it had been - brought on only blurry images and incoherent noises. Her synapses temporarily shut down and she knew she was going to be out of it soon.


	16. Waking to Revelations

Drowsily, but somewhat well-rested, Sito turned over in the bed. The bed was hard, but surprisingly comfortable. She warm sheets enveloped her body and she felt the sudden urge to yawn. Her eyes opened hazily and she sighed. She looked to her side and her face instantly fell; a shadow of disgust and confusion and hatred spread over her face. She cursed in Bajoran, not caring in that split second whether or not the Prophets - as holy as they might be - heard her cussing.

He, too, seemed to gather his thoughts and began to awake. His eyes rolled over to her form and he smiled, their eyes meeting. Sito abruptly turned away, but felt his cold hand on her bare shoulder.

She sat up in the bed - his hand dropped to the bed - and breathed heavily. Looking down at herself, she noticed with massive relief that she was still fully clothed. She rubbed her eyes carefully and faced him. He was still lying down, looking well rested.

Sito held her hand to her forehead and moaned. The last time she had had a hangover had been at the Academy a year or two ago. She didn't want to tarnish her record.

"It takes some getting used to," Merel pointed out, sitting up in the bed. It obviously didn't faze him that he was topless.

Her eyes widened. "What?" her question was more of a demand.

He chuckled. "Why, Kanar, of course." He regarded her with a warm, critical eye.

She issued a sigh of relief. "Merek - Donal," she said, correcting her formal register. "Please, whathappened last night?"

A slight, sincere smile ghosted on his lips. "The Kanar was too much for you. You became very tired, so I brought you here."

Nervously, she twiddled a strand of unkempt hair around her finger. "And?" she asked, her voice raspy with nerves and building-up contempt.

He shook his head. "Nothing happened." He regarded her, and his gaze suddenly softened.

"You carried me here, so I could rest?" she asked, slight hints of incredulity creeping into her voice.

He nodded dutifully, the movement of a soldier. "I thought it unwise to have you taken back to your quarters in your condition."

"Nothing else... occurred?" she asked, sounding sheepish.

He stood up; his chest bare, and set a hand on her shoulder and she didn't shake it off. "I said it didn't. And, it didn't."

Uncertain, but with growing conviction, Sito nodded and agreed.

As the morning slowly grew stronger, Merek ordered that she sit at the table in the main area of his personal quarters. She presumed that he had made his guards aware of prisoner 990130's location. Her.

So, she listened to him and took a seat. He sat in the chair that was adjacent to her. She wondered for a brief moment what the purpose of the table was – dinner? Meetings? She let those thoughts fall idle and she waited for him to speak.

"You still don't believe me," he observed, eyes narrowing.

Sito opened her mouth to reply, but her neurones formed no response. She closed her mouth. "It's difficult," she admitted, but she knew she didn't have to tell him.

He nodded and steepled his fingers on the large table. "I told you nothing happened between the two of us - after you drank the Kanar."

Sito's expression was unreadable, and so was her answer. "I..."

Merek sighed. "Would it reassure you to a greater degree if I told you something about myself?" he asked her, and Sito saw his expression become closer to caring than neutral.

She considered, pursing her lips. "I don't follow." She frowned.

His mood lightened. "I haven't said anything yet."

She stared at him blankly.

"When I was young," he began, whilst the juvenile side of Sito started to wonder if what he had to say was going to be interesting. "I attended the military academy, on Cardassia - Prime, that is." Silence enveloped the room. "My parents urged me to attend-"

What a proud mother and father they must be, Sito thought derisively, before she had a chance to curb the thought. Their son ruling a penal colony - filled with thousands or more wrongfully captured people from dozens of races , her conscience got the better of her, when she recalled his kindness to her. She banished the negative thoughts about him; they would do no good to anyone.

"- so, I reluctantly agreed," he continued.

She mulled that over. "Why 'reluctantly'?" she asked, watching his face carefully.

He shrugged, a small movement, though his entire cuirassed chest rose when he did so. "I excelled at science," he explained.

She nodded. "Biology was my best subject, at least, it had been. But, the Occupation made schooling hard. We were sent down the mines or to serve in a refinery station before we got a chance to sit our exams." She bit her lip, wondering if her response was warranted.

Still, he did not seem to mind too much. "Quantum mechanics was my speciality," he continued, staring out into empty space for a moment.

Sito frowned. She didn't even know what quantum mechanics was. She was a security officer, not a scientist. "Did your parents not respect your wishes?" She wondered if asking that question was acceptable, but she figured that the conventional rules did not apply to her as they did others.

He shook his head and a hint of anger, of regret, flashed across his sharp face. "No. At that time, we did not need physicists and astronomers, we needed soldiers."

"Oh," was all Sito could say.

He nodded. "At the military academy, I, however, excelled at most courses." His pride bled through his bland, non-descriptive, open words.

Of course you did, Sito reflected. She prepared herself for another bout of Cardassian pomposity, arrogance.

He waited for her to look as though she were listening before he spoke again. "I performed best during the physical exercises," he said. "So, they put me in the elite corps division."

Failing to rein in her mounting interest, Sito asked, "Division of what?"

Her question caught him unawares. "That is not important."

But, Sito knew what he had meant. The Obsidian Order.

"There, I met the only cadet who was better than me," he said.

She leant in closer. "Who?"

"Joret Dal."

Those words rang through her brain, ricocheting down her synaptic pathways. For a split, disbelieving second, she wondered if the copious amounts of Kanar she had consumed the previous night had damaged her neural relays. She was wrong to wonder. It came to her in an instant.

"Joret..." she murmured thoughtlessly, staring down at her hands as they rested on the table.

With curious eyes, Merek watched her. "What did you say?"

Still in a confused daze, Sito muttered, "Joret." The word was so quiet that she might as well have mouthed it. She regained control over herself, not sure if her previous mood was because of the still-healing hangover or due to the shock of someone mentioning Joret's name to her. "You know him," she breathed.

Gul Merek raised an eyebrow. "I used to know him." His eyes suddenly narrowed. "Why does that matter?"

She ignored his question, giving hers precedence. "Why did you say you 'used' to know him?"

He gathered his thoughts, but said nothing relating to her disregard of his previous query. "Two years into the training, Dal just stopped attending."

"Why?" Sito asked, though she knew why. He had defected.

"No one knew," he said with a loose sigh. "At least, no one told me." After a moment's silence, he added, eyes narrowing, "You know something."

Sito's heart jumped. As it returned to its normal rhythm, she said quietly, "I don't."

"If you think you can fool me, then I shall curse myself for all eternity." He scoffed. "How I could find an interest in you, if you believe you could deflect me from the truth."

Sito shuddered; his words had cut her. She twiddled her thumbs.

"Well?" he prompted.

Defeated, she sighed and proceeded to compose both herself and an answer. "You know how I came to be here," she said, and he nodded. Nonetheless, she recounted it. "I was travelling with a Cardassian so I could help him get back to Cardassia Prime." She watched his expression change as he took the information in. "He transported to the planet." Her brow furrowed. "I think - I hope he did."

"You were with Joret Dal," Merek breathed.

"And he was working for the Obsidian Order."


	17. With Hope in Mind

Gul Merek shook his head. "I can't do it."

Sito started forward, taking slow, measured steps. She drew in a deep breath. "Please," she said, the words barely touching the realms of muttering.

Still, he would not give in. "Jaxa," he began, watching her closely with his blue lagoon eyes. "I cannot do it." He sighed. "I will not."

Sito sighed and rubbed her temples in annoyance and perplexity. "Why?" she finally asked. "At least tell me that." She narrowed her eyes, watching for the reply to her demand.

He took her aside in his office, taking her by the arm. His eyes met hers. "Joret," he began softly, but his tone was still quite unreadable. "He is a defector."

His to-the-point answer angered her greatly but she managed to hold in her emotions. "If there's a chance that I - and others - can get out of this godforsaken place, then I'm all for it," she quipped, staring him down, though he easily towered over her, which greatly reduced the submission she was trying to instil.

Merek, though, shook his head and pursed his lips in thought. "I have said no," he said bluntly.

Before she could stop herself, she had put her hand on his arm. "I'm not asking you," she told him, her tone hardening but her face struggling to keep up with the stoicism. "I'm begging you." That series of words made her feel so weak, which brought her back to her people's submission to Cardassian rule during the Occupation. She reached up to caress his face, running her hands through his thick, black hair. She looked into his eyes.

Merek's pupils dilated; he reached out to stroke her face. "Don't..." he began, then stopped."I cannot contact him."

"Why?" she pressed, her hands around his neck.

He made a noncommittal noise. "It's too dangerous," he warned her.

Sito sighed in partial submission. She put her hands to each of his cheeks as he looked down. "I understand," she murmured. "But-"

"But what?" he interrupted, eyes closely watching her face. He kissed her.

She shook her head, then lifted it up to refocus her attention on him. "Joret is no more a traitor than you are..."

He started back. "What?" he demanded, eyes furiously searching hers.

She kept her ground. "You pitied me. You..." She sighed. "Us."

Merek began to pace around his office angrily, worry and despair laced into his facial expression, hands up to his face. "It is not the same," he finally stated through gritted teeth.

Sito shook her head. "Granted, its not exactly the same. But, it is similar." She went up to him, took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "Donal," she began softly. "I need you to do this. For me."

He looked as reluctant as ever, but his glare mellowed. "I'm sorry, Jaxa," he announced. "I really am." He sighed and added, "I don't think I can contact Dal.

She stroked his cheek. "I know you won't do this for... Bajorans, but, for me..."

Merek shook his head and caught her hand. "It is too risky. Too dangerous."

"I don't care how dangerous it is," she declared, her throat almost catching. "I was brought up on danger." She wanted to smile wryly, but instead felt only tears burning the backs of her eyes.

He wiped the tear away, and the coolness of his rough, grey hands still shocked her. "The chances are, Dal can only be contacted on a secure channel," he explained, now holding her. "We don't even know the frequency."

"You can obtain that?" she asked, a slight frown touching her brow.

He shook his head, but soon nodded. "I don't want to see you get hurt."

It was said so simply, but Sito dug beneath it and found the layers of meaning. "I know," she said softly. "Will you contact him? Tell him where I am?"

Merek stiffened. "What exactly do you hope to achieve by my telling him?"

"He will inform my captain," Sito replied. "Surely it would be easier - and safer - for you to make contact with a Cardassian than it would a Federation vessel?"

He could not deny her Vulcan-like logic. "It would," he said with a sigh.

"You will?" she asked, hope beaming through her eyes.

He pulled her into his arms after a moment's thought. He kissed her forehead, then her lips. "I will," he said, and his conviction calmed her


	18. When Hope Becomes Real

It certainly was hard work for Sito when she needed to speak – privately – with the overseer. She had gotten all sorts of looks from prisoners, among them curiosity and disgust. After some time, she had managed to ignore those glances. The Cardassian guards were not much better – their high levels of intrigue never ceased to alarm and worry her.

Slipping through the straight, uniform halls in her dress – her marginally well maintained dress – she was led along by two muscly guards. They shunted her up to the door, their phaser rifles with the barrels digging into her back. How much she wanted to knock him out, she didn't think she could articulate.

The door slid open at Overseer Merek's order and the guards quickly left.

"Jaxa?" he exclaimed, noticing her, a welcoming smile on his face. He took a quick look at a PADD, and then set it down on the severely crafted desk.

Sito stepped forward, characteristically bowing her head; he was still her superior, and brushed a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She smiled weakly back at him. "It is so difficult for me to see you," she said, a hint of sadness in her voice, as she regarded him with expectant eyes.

He stood up from his chair and approached her, beckoning her to sit on a bench-like piece of furniture in the office space. She obeyed. She's never sat there before.

"How did you gain access?" he asked. "I meant to request you, but it slipped my mind." Regret touched his words. He reached up and touched her cheek with the back of his hand, and it remained there for several moments.

She smiled, acquitting him. Then, her face hardened and he saw how uncomfortable she was. "I told them I had an appointment with you," she said timidly, and her head would've dropped to her chest if he was not holding her.

"Oh..."

"My intended meaning was an interrogation, but I don't think that was how the guards saw it," she muttered, a tight grimace on her face.

In response and realisation, Merek winced, nodding. "I am sorry. I will try to make things easier." Seeing her smile, he tilted her chin up to him and kissed her on the lips.

Sito pulled away after a few moments. "Wait," she said. "What did Joret say?"

Merek stiffened and looked at her, appearing pensive. "I was unable to secure a visual link," he replied, his tone nonchalant, but Sito saw a muscle in his sharp jaw jump.

Sito shrugged. That didn't matter. His words implied that, though a visual link was not achieved, an audio one was. She was thankful for that. "But you obtained audio?" she asked, hope dancing in her eyes. Living every year except the last two under Cardassian rule had taught her not to hope too much and not too hold too much faith, but she couldn't resist it now. If there was even an iota of a chance that she could escape the penal colony, return to the Enterprise and Starfleet, be free, then she would take it.

He nodded his head. "It was a little grainy, but that is to be expected from secure channels between such far-flung places."

Pursing her lips in thought, Sito asked, "What did Joret say?"

He was silent for a moment and then replied. "We only spoke for barely ten seconds," he elaborated. "In that time, he said he is already under suspicion from the government." Merek absentmindedly stroked her smooth cheek.

Sito frowned. "Suspicion?" she repeated. "Why?"

"I doubt they know the entire story, but his long absence from Cardassia and supposed capture at the hands of Federation authorities has aroused suspicion. He will be found out soon," Merek said, his eyes narrowing in threat.

Sito rubbed her forehead meditatively. She sighed. "Is that it?" she asked, brow wrinkling.

"What do you mean?" He cocked his head to one side.

"How soon is 'soon'?" she clarified.

Merek shrugged his shoulders. "One cannot tell."

"I'll never leave," she murmured, hanging her head, forgetting who she was speaking to.

He either ignored or didn't hear her comment. "Dal said that you - we, I will join you, I think - shall need to see him." He looked at her closely. "In person."

Something caught in Sito's throat. She coughed. "In person?" she repeated, in a hushed tone. "That will never work. Joret needs to know that."

Merek disagreed. "I exercise supreme control over this penal colony." Sito shuddered. Penal colony. "I have more power than you think." And with that, he touched his lips gently to hers and then kissed her cheek.

"I hope you're right, Donal," she said sadly, wistfully.

"No one argues with me," he said gruffly. She almost shuddered when she felt him stiffen against her. "If it means that much to you... to speak with him. To tell him of your wellbeing-"

She cut him off. "And, to return to Captain Picard. I need to rejoin the Enterprise. My friends..." she faded out as she sniffs and wiped a tear from her eye. "I miss them. I feel so alone here."

He looked pensive. "You needn't be," he muttered, his hands around her waist.

Sito wanted to pull away from him, but stood still. "I... I..." No words would come out. "I... care for you, Donal," she finally said. "I owe you so much."

"You owe me nothing," he countered calmly. "Jaxa... I care only for you. I've lost everything I cared for."

Sito wanted to know why, but he added, "It was all my fault. It is all my fault."

Instinctively, she reached up to smooth the worry lines on his sharp face. "I'm sure it's not."

"You don't know," he argued. "They're all dead." He kissed her lips, as if she was all he had to worry for. His grip around her waist tightened, but only lightly so.

She was about to argue with him, but knew deep down that he was telling the truth.

"Anyway," he said abruptly. "I have told you we will speak to Joret Dal, and we will."


	19. The Worst of the World

**There is implied (underage) rape, but it's only mentioned. You don't see it.**

She looked so sad to Sito. So weak and vulnerable. Her hands were sore and looked as rough as sandpaper; her eyes were devoid of all life; her young skin was taught and haggard over her bony structure. Her cutting cheekbones threatened – it seemed – to burst free from her face. Sito presumed that her hair would have once been so vibrant and so lively, yet it looked as dead as the weeds which would struggle continually to grow in the harsh environment of Cardassia II. The girl was beautiful, at least, she would have been. Her eyes were, though sickly, of the most perfect hue, bright, intelligent green.

As Sito watched the young woman – the girl – working away at the harsh, unforgiving rock face, she wondered what to do. She had a pit in her stomach and her throat continually caught. She made up her mind and approached the girl. Her handcuffs had settled against her wrists, not that Sito would ever be able to get used to them. They still burned like hell. Of course, Merek had offered to have her live with him – in hisquarters. And, whilst she did not say 'no' straight away, she knew deep down that it was the wrong thing to do.

She wanted nothing more than to feel safe and secure and cared for. They were all things that Merek made her feel, but she was not yet ready to give in. The overseer was Cardassian, albeit a kindly and not so egotistical Cardassian, but he was still Cardassian. She had not survived the horrors of the Occupation of her once prosperous homeworld just to be lulled into false pretences at the hands of Gul Merek. Yet, she had to keep reminding herself:  _Gul Merek cares for me. He really does. What does he stand to gain if he has an ulterior motive?_  Withstanding, she did not feel necessarily bad for the relationship she and Merek shared. It wasn't love. It was something else. Something different. Trust? Love? She did not know for sure, but she did know he was important to her. And, she was very important to him.

Sito longed to be with Merek, to have him hold her, but she forced herself to not be so weak. I don't need him to look after me, she would tell herself. I can look after myself, she would say. Then, something in her brain would turn; her feelings would scramble. Can I? Can I?

A noise broke Sito's absentminded tain of thought. The bedraggled-looking girl had coughed, though it sounded more like in between a moan and a splutter.

Oh, shit, Sito thought to herself. I can't just leave her there. I'll likely get thrown in a holding cell, but at least – maybe – she will be all right. There was no way she was going to stand by and watch the ill girl as she worked and worked until she dropped dead there and then. So, she took a breath and stopped her own chiselling, watching as the multiple tiny jewels she had extracted from the rock broke free and cascaded down. She hunkered down, her chains trailing along the ground.

"I can help you," Sito said softly, regarding the girl with much worry and terror.

The girl looked up and Sito instantly caught sight of the Bajoran-esque ridges on her nose. She was a wisp of a girl; there was barely anything to her. Sito wanted nothing more than to scoop her up in her arms and take her to a warm house and care for her, but that was definitely not a possibility. The girl's sad eyes focused on Sito, but no words came out of her mouth.

"Please," Sito began again. "I can help you." She sighed.

The girl's voice was soft and scared. "Do not trouble yourself," she said warningly, but the danger in her tone was non-existent.

As she watched Sito, Sito saw how young she was. She was a child. She needed to be at school, learning equations and English, not working herself to death in that godforsaken place. An overwhelming sadness swept over Sito, engulfing her.

Sito wasn't going to back down; she calmed herself a bit. "I can call the overseer," she then suggested.

As the girl brushed her dirty hair out of her face, Sito's eyes fell down to the girl's torso. Her lip quavered. "Oh, no," she breathed, the words barely audible as they brushed past her mouth.

A sob escaped the girl's throat and a tear fell down her cheek.

Sito forced herself to be composed. Starfleet made people stronger, she had to keep reminding herself. "How… How far gone are you?"

The girl's gaze cast down to her own stomach and more tears appeared. She instinctively reached down to place her hand on the swelling bump. "Don't worry yourself with me," she said, stifled sobs breaking her words intermittently.

Sito shook her head. She took the girl's hand in hers. "I can see Mer— the overseer. He will ensure you are looked after."

"No," they girl shot back, but in a non-threatening tone. "I don't want to speak with any Cardassians."

Anxiety and alarm crossed Sito's face. "…Oh," she said in realisation. "They… They did this." The words simply came out; when they had left her mouth, it was too late.

The girl wiped her eyes with the back of her dirty hand. As she did so, the strap on her flimsy dress fell down her shoulder and Sito caught sight of the purple marking on the skin. Anger twisted up inside of her.

Not knowing how exactly she should proceed, Sito said, "I am Jaxa."

"Jaxa?" the girl repeated. "That's a nice name." As much as Sito wanted a smile to touch the girl's lips, it did not.

Siot nodded. "Thank you," she said.

The girl looked thoughtful. "I have heard your name somewhere."

"You have?" Sito asked her, her eyebrows raised.

She nodded her head in a slight movement.

"I am Starfleet," Sito said softly. Coming right out with it.

The girl frowned. "Why are you here?"

The girl's intense curiosity only made Sito sadder for her; she was obviously an intelligent individual, yet her life was being worked away in such a horrific place. "My shuttle was shot down," Sito replied simply, not wanting to elaborate. "Were you captured?" Sito asked her. "During the Occupation?"

Slowly, she nodded. "Three years ago," she muttered. "My family and I, we heard that the Cardassian forces were weakening. That the Resitance was a strong as ever." For a brief moment, something akin to hope struck the young Bajoran girl's face, and then it all faded. "My father told me mother and I, and my brothers that we were going to be free. The labour camp in which we were—" her words were cut off by a sob, and then she continued, "was liberated, by the Shakaar Resistance Cell."

"What went wrong?" Sito asked.

"We, and other Bajorans from the camp, were on a shuttle. We were going to be free at last. Free. The next thing I knew, we crashed. I don't know where. I don't care where. I just know that it happened."

"Your family?" Sito asked, her voice trembling.

The girl wiped her eyes before any more salty tears could fall to the floor. She sniffed and wiped her nose, and a quick sob broke free. "They're gone," she said plainly. The words were said with little emotion, but Sito knew that the girl had only done that to try and convince herself that it would not be true if she almost didn't believe it.

"I'm so sorry," Sito whispered. "About everything." There was no ways she could think of to explain how broken she was.

The girl bowed her head. "I remember where I heard your name," she then revealed, looking Sito in the eye.

Sito allowed herself a small frown. "Where?"

"At the canteen, days previous, I recall some guards mentioning your name," she told Sito.

Sito nodded. "I see." She wondered where the girl was going with that. She was old enough to know.

The girl's voice turned hard, but not stoic like a Vulcan, unyielding like it belonged to someone who had been hurt as much as they possibly could ever be. "You are acquainted well with the overseer."

Sito wasn't quite sure what it was, but she decided it was something in between scorn and contempt and distrust, in the girl's voice. So, she didn't say anything.

"Are you his consort?" the girl questioned, looking down at her pregnant stomach.

"No," Sito said sharply. "No," she repeated, and her tone softened, but still retained its conviction. "I am not."

"Then why are you on such close terms with him?"

Sito opened her mouth to reply, but no words would come free. "I—" She sighed. "I don't—" She gave in. "I don't know exactly what you have heard, but I am doing what I am doing because I think it's the right thing to do." She winced as those unexpected words left her mouth.

The girl considered. "The right thing to do?"

"Yes," Sito said, nodding. "I can help us – all of us – get off this wretched planet." It wasn't a promise, but she so wanted it to be. "I never planned for any of this to happen."

Silence fell, but Sito broke it, saying, "What is your name?"

"Lupos Mila," she said in a small voice. Her accusatory tone had dissipated, and now all that was left was despair and sorrow and loneliness. So much pain.

Sito took the girl's hand and held it firmly. "I will help you as much as I can." Her eyes, once again, dropped to Lupos' swollen stomach. "What happened?"

Lupos looked away, but Sito sat there beside her and watched until the girl turned back around to face her. "I don't remember," she finally said tightly. "I don't want to remember. It was… It was dark and unusually cold. There was no wind. I remember hearing footsteps behind me, and then someone dragged me against a fence. He kissed me and—" She stopped.

Sito took the girl into her arms. "It's all right," she said soothingly. "It's all right. I'm sorry."

"He was Cardassian," Lupos, surprisingly, continued. "It was very dark, but a small light was shining."

Sito's heart jumped in her chest. "You saw his face?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"This will not go unpunished," Sito promised her. "You'll have justice. He will pay for what he did to you." Disgust overpowered her, and, for a tiny moment, she forgot that not all Cardassians were heartless monsters.

Sito stayed with Lupos Mila until their 'shift' ended, and they were removed to their respective barracks.


	20. Trying to Look Up

As Gul Merek had promised, Sito was taken to his office. She charged in and he started up from his desk, looking alarmed and confused. "Jaxa?" he said uncertainly, worry making its way into his voice. "What is wrong?" he asked her.

She shook her head determinedly. "Nothing is wrong with me." She approached him and he instantly tried to kiss her, but she stopped him. "I need to tell you something."

"Oh?" he said, raising an eye ridge.

"Are you aware that there is a pregnant girl still working?!" she said crisply, and the words came out sharper than she had meant.

His arms around her waist, he felt her heart as it thumped steadily but fervently against her ribcage. "No," he said simply. "I was not."

"How could you not know?" she challenged, both anger and confusion dancing in her eyed. She thought about breaking free from his grasp.

He sighed. "I do not know everything that goes on here," he quipped. "Let alone have knowledge of some pregnant prisoner."

The nonchalance of his tone angered her, but she kept a lid on it. "She is… Oh, I don't know… eight months gone. And, she is forced to work. To waste away her life. She will die." She glared at him.

Her determined gaze did not scare or amuse him. Instead, it interested him. "What do you expect me to do? Let her retire to her barracks indefinitely?"

She wanted to slap him. "She's barely seventeen!" Sito yelled, and she started away from him.

He, however, pulled her back to him. "What do you want me to do about it?" he asked her, eyes boring into hers.

She sighed and her bottom lip trembled. Composing herself, she muttered, "I don't know, Donal. I really don't know."

"Maybe…. Maybe, she was pregnant before she even got here," he suggested, hoping it was true.

Sito shook her head. "No," she said bluntly. "That happened here."

He stiffened against her and a muscle in his defined jaw twitched. "It did?" he asked in an unsually small voice.

"She knows who did it," Sito told him.

"Has she told you?" he asked. "If I have his identity, I could easily file a report and have him deported. Under, of course, the guise of professional misconduct. Mistreatment of prisoners."

Sito saw the concern and care in his words, and in his face, but his last sentences frustrated her. How Cardassians could be so sly and cunning one moment, and them extremely black and white the next, irritated and perplexed her.

"No, she has not," Sito replied sadly. "I can ask her tomorrow. But, it is a very sensitive topic. It's disgusting."

"Please, Jaxa," he began. "Do not let the… unfavourable actions of one man colour your opinion of my race."

"It's a little late for that," she said condescendingly. "The Occupation made that an impossibility."

Merek sighed. "I have tried, Jaxa, to show you that I mean well. Everything I do, I do for a reason." He kissed her neck. "Joret Dal has not been in contact again, but I am content if you are still in need of seeing him personally."

She nodded. "Thank you, but that will have to wait, I think," she told him.

He frowned. "It will?" he asked.

"Uh huh. I won't leave her like this. She could give birth any minute," Sito said convincingly.

He pulled her into an embrace, and she buried her face in his shoulder. She felt safe when she was in his arms and wished she would not have to leave him. Merek kissed her forehead when she looked up at him. "We will see Joret soon," he said to her. "I promise."

"But, not until after Lupos Mila has given birth," Sito said firmly, hopefully.

He nodded grudgingly but acceptingly.

"And I know she is well and the bastard who did that to her has been dealt with," she continued, contempt more than touching her words.

"Of course," he agreed, gently drawing back. He looked down at her and whispered, "Are you tired?"

She suppressed a smile but it broke free. "No, I can't..." she said, but she barely convinced herself.

His smile reminded herself how attractive he was. "I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

Something in her mind told her to walk away and something else told her to do the complete opposite. She went for option two. After all, she and Merek had done very little together, yet their unconventional and, sometimes, she felt - wrong - relationship had been alive for months. "Actually," she said, changing her mind. "I am."

Once they reached his quarters, Merek pressed his lips to hers. At first, the action was soft and delicate, but he soon quickened the pace. They stumbled, lips locked as he shed his uniform, into the sleeping quarters.


	21. For the Needs of Others

"You must eat," Sito ordered the young Bajoran woman, regarding her with stern, solemn eyes.

Lupos Mila shook her head. "I am not hungry," she said slowly, softly.

Sito frowned, her eyebrows almost drawing together. "Please," she began again, watching her closely with caring eyes. "If not for yourself, then for the baby."

Sito's firm glare bored into Lupos, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I don't want this baby," she shot back in anger, but the flecks of light dancing on her irises told Sito that she was scared.

The Starfleet officer sighed, her breath exhaling measuredly and wearily. She reached her hand across the dirty, grimy table and touched Lupos' hand. She chose her words very, very carefully. "I know you may think that now-"

Lupos interjected Sito's words. "I think that now and I shall think that in the future!" she maintained, her voice barely audible. The tears in her voice almost entirely blocked out her words.

However, Sito shook her head. "No," she said in a soft yet commanding tone. "This baby needs you," she said sternly, her gaze focusing on Lupos.

"I don't want it!" the girl said in anguish, tears running down her cheeks. She had her hands on her pregnant stomach, looking down at it in contempt and childlike perplexity.

Wearily, but caring, Sito shook her head. "No, you shall. You'll cherish it, you know you will."

Lupos wiped her eyes, but the tears still came. "You cannot know that."

Sito shook her head. "I cannot, no," she agreed sadly. "Not eating, though, will not make it any better," she warned her.

Lupos hung her head. "I know," she said softly. "I hate myself," she declared.

Sito blinked and stood up. She circled the table and sat beside Lupos. "Don't say that," she said gently.

Lupos flicked her hair back and snapped her head around to face Sito. "I do!" she proclaimed. "I do."

Before Sito could give her any more comforting words - at least, she meant them to be comforting, but she got the impression that it was not being welcomed so much - a guard approached them.

"Keep the noise down, Bajorans!" he snapped, with a quick menacing jerk of his gun. "Nobody wants to hear your whining."

Sito swallowed, and it almost got trapped in her throat. "Sir, I would like to speak with Gul Merek."

He sneered and played about with his phaser rifle. "Oh, you would, would you?" he said mockingly.

Sito Jaxa gritted her teeth. She stood up, pushing her chair back, and if it had not been for the sheer crowdedness of the the canteen, it would have fallen to the floor. Instead, it just scraped harshly against the row of chairs behind it. "Tell him my prisoner identification," she demanded. "990130," she added.

The guard overlooked her by two heads easily. He searched the ID number on his PADD and reluctantly nodded. "I understand the overseer should like to speak with you."

"Not me," she countered, still glaring at him. "Her." She nodded in the direction of Lupos, who was sat there sobbing and sniffing.

The guard raised a curious eye ridge, but said little more. He nodded and swiftly signalled for another guard - likely an inferior - to join him. Only two would probably be needed; two young women, one of them heavily pregnant, would not need much supervision.

Sito and Lupos followed the guards, being shoved along roughly by the butts of their rifles. They came to the door and it slid open. Merek looked up from his paperwork. "Leave us," he ordered his men, and they quickly skulked away.

"Jaxa?" he said in a voice of surprise. "Who... Oh..." He realised who she was; Lupos Mila. It was her heavily distended stomach that have it away. "I see."

"Donal," Sito said abruptly, rushing forward. "Lupos, she's falling apart! You need to help her."

He shook his head and gestured for the pair of them to have a seat. "There is little I can do," he said firmly, trying not to let his feelings for Sito show through in his words.

She turned to face Lupos, who was trembling with fear. "Do you want to tell him?" Sito asked quietly. "It's ok if you don't."

Lupos wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She sniffed back the tears and cleared her throat. Her hands were still resting on her bump. "Yes," she breathed. "Yes." She lifted her head up and Merek could see what she looked like, and that was when it hit home how young she really was.

"I know who-" She broke down again. Composing herself, as Merek stood by pacing, and Sito held her hand. "Who... Did this... Who the - the father is."

Merek cast his critical gaze over to her. He draped his hands behind his back. "Yes?" he pressed.

Sito continued to silence and comfort the girl.

"His name was Necat."

Merek's jaw dropped open. He stared at her. For a moment, only silence fell. Not even the air moved. "Necat," he muttered.

Sito looked up, confused. "I presume you know him?"

"Oh, all too well, I am afraid," he said. Shadow darkened his features. "He commands the Southern Hemisphere of this colony."

Sito frowned. "I thought you had jurisdiction over the entire place?" she asked incredulity.

He shook his head. "No, only the Northern Hemisphere. We rarely even document the South; it is terribly maintained."

Lupos nodded gravely. "I know. I used to work there."

Sito shot her a confused glance. "You never said so."

"It wasn't important," she said simply, the life draining from her eyes."

"He attacked you whilst you were under his... supervision?" Merek asked; it was obvious he was uncomfortable.

The girl's eyes darted to the right, towards Sito. The Starfleet officer gave her an encouraging smile and a slight nod. Lupos looked down at her hands as they rested idly in her lap. "I... Yes," she said in a small voice.

Merek began to pace, his hands draped behind his back. "This is unacceptable," he said abruptly.

An uneasy sensation started to well in Sito's stomach. "Merek- Donal, will you do this? Will you help Lupos?" She looked up at him intently.

Unable to ignore the concern etched into Sito's beautiful face, Merek gave a quick nod. "I will consider the matter."

When Lupos had left – for Merek had given her his word that he would at least try and do something to ensure the actions of Necat would not remain unpunished, and had thus awarded her somewhat safer accommodation, in the Starfleet barracks with Sito – he stood pensive for some time.

"What does 'consider' mean?" Sito asked him, once they were once again alone.

He turned to face her, and she knew instantly that he was worried. Spending months with someone enables you to do that. "It means I will consider it," he said bluntly.

Ignoring his obvious reluctance to move on from the subject, Sito said, "I know what the Cardassians term as 'considering'. In the Occupation—" Her voice hardened "—we were told many times by many soldiers that they would consider giving my mother medicine, but they never did."

Merek looked up, looking more uncomfortable than he had been before. His face soon resumed its usual calmness. "This will be harder than you think."

Sito frowned.

He continued. "I am not superior to this… Gul Necat. He is the same rank as me," he told her.

She nodded. "I know," she agreed.

"So," he said, waggling an interrogating finger. "There is very little I can do to have him punished."

Sito looked thoughtful. "Can you not… I don't know… report him?" she asked in a hushed voice.

He shook his head, sighing. "The Detapa Council doesn't care about these penal colonies. The prisoners there mine precious minerals – minerals we need to ensure the survival of our race."

Sito nodded, but wanted to object.

"All that matters," he continued, no longer facing her, but facing away. "Is that Cardassia receives its off-world minerals."

Sito's shoulders sagged in both fear and disappointment. Merek beckoned her closer and she obeyed. His arm around her waist, he kissed her forehead softly, and the two of them stood there for some times, thinking the matter over, trying to find a way for justice to see a way through. Sito never ceased to be amazed and bewildered by the overseer's tenderness, his consideration and his humility.

"I don't know whether to be scared or intrigued by you," she told him.

With one slender finger, Merek tilted her head up. He smiled. "My dear," he said – the term of affection brought a shiver down Sito's spine. "Why would you be scared of me?"

Sito blushed. "You're…"

"I'm what?" he asked. "Cardassian?"

Shyly, she nodded.

He kissed her lips, drew back, then said, "You have no need to fear me. I will care for you."


	22. Three Words

Merek had taken the shuttlecraft. Being a penal colony, Cardassia IV had very little in the way of transportation options. He knew he could take a shuttle-car, but they were reasonably slow and almost always needed maintenance. Whilst they hovered using anti-gravity technology, the shuttle-cars of Cardassian design were pretty poorly manufactured. Their construction was more or less substandard. Doors would squeak, engines would splutter, the anti-grav systems would more than often fail.

The journey time across Cardassia IV was not particularly long. Not only because the planet was quite a small one, but because the land masses were collected together in a giant continent. Somewhat reminiscent of the Pangea supercontinent that Earth had had on its surface all those hundreds of millions of years ago, Cardassia IV's Northern and Southern Hemispheres were poorly defined. Not even a wall or a security grid or even a simple barbed-wire fence was set out as an appropriate dividing line. By several meters, the true definition would change.

The journey was not great. It was hot and stuffy - even by Cardassian standards. The shuttle-car carried with it a rather unpleasant smell. Merek spent the entire travel time with his nose turned up.

Upon arriving at the Southern Hemisphere, Merek was instantly hit with the solid fact that it was in a much, much worse state than the district he himself was in charge of. Everything about the area was abysmal. Even the air was so. He held his head high and nodded sternly at the guards who stood by their posts. The prisoners lowered their heads in a bowing motion and whimpered among themselves.

He was escorted - as he usually was - to the office of Gul Necat. He had met the Gul a few times in the past, but their meetings had not been carried out for pleasure; they were purely professional, political. If Gul Merek was to be entirely truthful, he did not much like Necat. He came across as arrogant - much more arrogant than the average Cardassian was generally perceived to be. Merek had a very critical way of judging characters.

As he was walked along the corridors of the complex of the Southern Hemisphere overseer's office, he ran through in his mind what to say. It would be different talking to Gul Necat - due to them being of the same rank and basic recognition.

The office that belonged to Necat was spartan to say the least. It was dull - duller than Merek's. As he took a seat opposite Necat, Merek cursed his people's ways. Why must we Cardassians be so... sociable? he asked himself continually. He wished they could have just settled the little 'dispute' over the commlink. That would have been so much easier and quicker, not to mention spare Merek the intense embarrassment he would surely be subject to if his words to Necat were not heeded.

"Donal," Necat said with such an air of familiarity that it irritated Merek.

Merek nodded curtly. "Itol."

A grin shone across Necat's face. "To what pleasure do I owe this?" he asked with painfully cold civility.

Merek stiffened in his seat. "Don't bother with the niceties," he snapped.

The grin quickly left Necat's face. "I see," he said in recollection, nodding his head slowly. "Well?" he prompted the other overseer.

"I won't make this any longer than it need be," Merek said sharply, dangerously.

Necat didn't so much as slightly bristle at the sound of Merek's warning words. "Then, by all means, don't." He smiled, and something in Merek's stomach very nearly twisted.

"I am reporting you for the misuse of your position as overseer," Merek stated bluntly.

Apparently, the bluntness of Merek's reply did little to bother Necat, who simply nodded. "Misuse?" he repeated, lifting an amused eye ridge.

"Do not try my patience," Donal said dangerously. "You have disregarded regulation thirteen, section six of the document."

"Unlawful abuse of a prisoner under one's jurisdiction?" Necat said, looking somewhat confused and alarmed, as he read through the specified regulation displayed on his computer screen.

Merek nodded slowly, sternly. "You know what I mean," he said bluntly.

"Prisoners are property," Necat snapped. "I can do what I want with them."

His intense nonchalance angered Merek so. "No," he said through gritted teeth. "It does not work that way."

"Was I supposed to let such a beautiful young girl go to waste?" Necat quipped.

Merek's hands clenched into fists. He took a deep breath. "I won't even answer that," Merek finally said.

Necat scoffed. He flexed his hands in such a calm way that Merek was almost lost for words. "By all means, speak your mind," Necat said simply, opening his hands. "I shan't object."

"You will be escorted to Cardassia Prime, where you will be tried as a war criminal," Merek declared.

"War criminal?" Necat scoffed. "This is no war. The Bajorans are no worthy opponents of us. Mighty Cardassia and pathetic Bajor. Its good for nothing but its simple women."

"Listen," Merek said in a tone of clear foreboding. "Your sentence is obvious. It shall happen. We are no longer at war with Bajor. The Occupation is over." An indeterminable look flashed across his face. "Your actions were despicable, and your attitude in hindsight is even worse."

For a split second, guilt graced Necat's face, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. "You do not outrank me. There is very little you can do. I wouldn't even try if I were you."

"I'll think of something."

As soon as he returned to his quarters, he saw Sito. And. He also saw her facial expression. Her beautiful features were clouds over by the pain that she was feeling in advance of what she knew he would likely be about to tell her. She sniffed and reached her hand up to delicately brush a year from her eye. Merek approached her and took her in his strong arms.

Sito broke free a little and looked up at him. Her hands were wrapped protectively around his broad, scaly neck. "Donal?" she asked in a timid voice. "He didn't listen, did he?" She hung her head.

Merek sighed as lifted her head up gently with his grey hands. He held her face in his hands. "I'm sorry, Jaxa," he apologised whole-heatedly.

She shook her head, however. It was not a definitive motion. There was really no finality to it. It was slow as shy. "It's not your fault," she told him in a small voice.

He kissed her forehead. Just as he pulled her into an embrace, the two of them became aware of is commpanel beeping. He swore under his breath and approached the commpanel. "Yes?" he asked wearily. "I said I was not to be disturbed."

"Yes, sir, sorry," he voice said quickly. It was a brisk, rough voice, but Jaxa could detect fair hints of confusions and apprehension.

"Get on with it," Merek snapped. Sito watched in the background as he got more and more agitated. Somehow, she saw that Merek knew what the guard was telling - trying to tell him.

The guard cleared his throat. "It is quite a, uh... delicate matter," he explained.

Merek didn't think much of the man's elaboration, but nodded anyway. "I'll be in my office. Patch the message or whatever it is through."

The communications line cut off. Sito watched as Merek exited the quarters and then returne mere moments later. She frowned and watched expectantly as he approached her. At least. He appeared to approach her. He only really ambled in the fear few steps into the room.

"Donal?" she said expectantly. She walked over to him taking slow, wary steps. "Can you tell me? Is it confidential?"

"Lupos is dead."

The words but Sito like a tsunami to a shed. A choked sob escaped her mouth and tears flooded her vision. She made for the sleeping quarters. She brought her legs up under her, in the hard bed. Burrowing her was in her folded arms, she wept for the poor girl.

Merek hesitated but knew that he needed to see how she was. And so, he entered the room and sat himself on the side of the bed. He brought his cold, grey hand up to her arm and gently lowered it. "Jaxa, I am sorry. Necat did not listen."

"It's Mila," she sobbed, shaking her head. "She was sixteen. Sixteen, Donal!" She sobbed even more.

Merek drew her into an embrace. "I know, I know," he said softly. He had never had to reassure someone - let alone a Bajoran - before in his entire life. He brushed her blonde hair out of her eyes as she sobbed into his heavy metal uniform cuirass.

"Necat," Sito said in between sobs and sniffs. "He will not get away with this."

Because of the state Necat's actions had put Sito in; because of the unfortunate death of the young girl, Merek did find himself wanting to agree, in part, with her. He cared deeply for her, but he would not allow her to put reeled in such danger.

"Jaxa," he said, swallowing. "I love you."

She looked up at him, blinked back tears, smiled. "I love you, too." She couldn't believe he was saying those words. She'd never been in love before, so to speak, let alone even think about saying it to a Spoonhead!

Merek leant forward and kissed her head, gently smoothing her hair.


	23. Doing Wrong to Do Right

Slowly but surely, Gul Merek stirred awake. He sighed and yawned, turning over in the bed that Sito had characteristically described as 'hard', but that he found incredibly comfortable. He reached out, in order to pull Sito closer to him, so that he could indulge himself in her warm scent for a little while longer. Before the rigours of the day fully began.

His hands did not find Sito. Alarmed, he wearily say up in the bed. Sito was nowhere to be seen, in that room, at least. He got up and, still rather groggy, pulled on his undershirt, over-tunic, then his uniform cuirass. Stretching, one hand outstretched behind his muscular back, he called out for her.

No reply.

His eye ridges drew together in confusion. A muscle in his defined jaw twitched. He rubbed his temples wearily and stepped out of his quarters - she had not been in the atrium either.

As he ambled the short distance necessary to his office, he stopped a young guard.

The Cardassian looked at his superior in curiosity. He was barely a man, just out of the famed Cardassian military academy.

Merek cleared his throat, instantly held his head high. "Dal," he addressed the man.

The young subordinate nodded assertively, sternly.

"Where is Sito Jaxa?" Merek asked him, eyes narrowing involuntarily.

The guard shifted his weight from foot to foot. He looked like he was thinking the question over. Then, he replied simply, quickly, as of his previous moments of pondering were not needed, "I do not know, sit."

Merek almost pushed the new recruit out of the way. Instead, he restrained himself and massaged his forehead angrily. He sighed in frustration. "I want the guard complement doubled where she is stationed. If anyone sees her, they are to bring her back here. To me."

"Not shoot on site?" the guard asked, cocking a confused eyebrow. Cardassian guards usually simply brought out their phasers and shot escaped prisoners there and then. At least, that had been what he was taught at the military academy.

Merek glared at him. "No. She is of..." his voice faded out as he began to consider his turn of phrase. "Fragile mind," he concluded, still not looking particularly happy with his word choice. "Escort her - without saying a word - to my office."

"Understood," the guard said after brief consideration.

Multiple searches had been carried out - at Merek's solemn order - to try and find Sito Jaxa. However, their number is attempts to locate the missing Bajoran had been in basic vain. Not a hint of her existence was to be found anywhere. Merek's fellow officers - though they were actually junior to him in rank - had suggested that they begin questioning the prisoners. Merek had given a little thought to that possibility, but it was only a fleeting, shallow moment of consideration. Questioning meant torturing. He was not in the mood for torturing anyone, even if those on the receiving end would be Bajorans. Bajoran prisoners. Or, indeed, any other prisoners of other obviously inferior races.

He had the idea that he would be begged by Sito to not exercise torture methods as a means of extrapolating information. And, what was worse, he knew that he would likely listen to her. She had softened him, and he knew his melted heart could not be solidified again anytime soon.

That night, Merek slept alone. During their months together on the penal colony, Sito had spent the nights with Merek, and in return he had given her the promised extra food rations, as well as offered some more to those other prisoners in her jurisdiction.

Some of the captives had told her - both to her face and when her back had been turned - that she was the basic equivalent of a collaborator. That term sent physical shivers down Sito's neck. Collaborator. Everyone hated collaborators. The comfort women so favoured by Gul Dukat on what used to be called Terok Nor were labelled as collaborators, even though they really could not help what they were doing. In return for their 'favours', their families got more food and clothes and certain shelter.

The commonness of such a name being applied to her had given Sito a flimsy cause to doubt what she was doing. What she was doing with Merek. She knew there was something there, as did he. However, she did wonder if she was doing the wrong thing. Morally incorrect.

Was she prostituting herself to the overseer? she would so often asked herself. The insults and almost sometimes jealousy of fellow criminals and innocents alike assured her that her question had the answer of 'yes'. But, whenever she looked at it in more detail, she saw that Merek treated her well. Better than he should should have been, really. He loved her. He still did love her, but he had... lost her.

It remained that way for another day.

Sito crossed her arms tightly over her chest. She shivered. It was so cold. The air stabbed her bare skin. Her dress covered her up in such a poor way. She marched through the desert-like terrain that was synonymous with Cardassia IV. She whimpered due to the fluctuating, but mostly cold night air and the howls of pain and Prophets know what else that came from many different locations dotted at random points around the planet.

She was lucky, she knew. Well, in the context of the situation at hand at present. The half of the colony where she was was not too far from the poorly designated line that supposedly separated the Northern and Southern Hemispheres of Cardassia IV. To her surprise, the 'barrier' was not well-guarded. In fact, it was not guarded at all.

She smiled, but that smile soon faded into an expression of pure neutrality. Behind the stony facade that she was attempting to put on and maintain, she was trembling. Although it would make her entrance easier, the guard not breaking at the 'barrier', it also carried a downside. It meant what she was about to do would come about sooner.

She held her breath and approached the complex. She had never been there before, but she didn't need to have a detailed history of the complex because the sight of the ghastly place told her all that he needed to know. Merek's area of power was practically Paradise compared to the other. It stank of blood and sweat and the horridly strong stench of Kanar. Prophets, that was strong. Merek was fond of it - as were the vast majority of Cardassians - but he did not drink it to excess.

Sito breathed our as quietly as he possibly could. She wrung her hands, but her slender fingers still shook with apprehension. Reaching the severely designed black building, she closed her eyes tightly shut, Nd then opened them with finality.

Instantly, as she stepped another foot forward, a guard noticed her. "Halt," he ordered her.

Sito looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. She stood stock still and looked at the guard. Their eyes met. She opened her trembling to speak, but no words would come out. She closed her mouth and blinked at him. "I-"

The guard raised an eye ridge, evidently confused and a little amused. "What is your business here, Bajoran?" he asked her.

His cold, accusing tone cut into Sito. She still stood motionless, facing him. "I, uh-" still no words would escape.

He frowned, then gestured to his phaser rifle.

Sito swallowed thickly.

"Escaped prisoners are to be shot without question," he told her.

Thanks for the warning, she thought. She considered, but her pondering did not go far. Her eyes flicked from left to right, but the guard's steadfast, accusatory glare caught her and she kept her gaze at him. She stood tall, trying to match his height.

"I have an... appointment with hi- the overseer." As soon as she had said those words, she shrank back. Disgust and disgrace washed over her.

He nodded, pursing his lips. "Acknowledge," he decided. He jerked his gun in the direction of the main entrance and Sito skulked in.

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she wiped it away. No more fell.

As she entered the main building, she was instantly struck - but no quite pleasantly so - by the massive change in temperature. Five degrees had escalated to at least thirty. She no longer needs to clutch her shoulder to keep herself warm. She still did it, though. It made her feel safe. Safer.

The overseer looked up at her. She was surprised that he didn't recognise her. She knew of the 'talk' he and Merek had had not that long ago, but gathered that Necat had not seen a photograph or hologram of her. She wasn't sure if that calmed her or terrified her. He frowned at her presence, but then grinned stupidly.

"Who are you?" he asked her, scanning her figure and smiling in appreciation. "I'll have you sent back to the barracks you came from..." he sneered "or shot."

A muscle in Sito's jaw tensed, then relaxed. She held her stoic expression up, stopping the overseer's words and actions from touching her.

He got to his feet, and studied her. "I was not expecting anything like..." He gestured to her as she stood helpless before him "this... today."

She but her lip and held her breath, stepping over to him. She stood on her toes, so that their heights were more evenly matched. He was tall but only average for Cardassians; now where near the towering height of Gul Merek.

"I am not complaining, though," he muttered gratefully.

She coughed. "I-" she started, but her throat caught and she found herself momentarily unable to say any more. She knew what his weak point was. Many Cardassians had made that clear to her. Her time with Merek had taught her what she wanted. She reached her hand up and tilted her head to his neck. "May I?" she offered.

He nodded eagerly, only after a moment's consideration.

She grimaced - but then managed to keep her disgust hidden - as she ran a slender finger along his neck, being careful to accentuate the contact her nail had with the exquisite ridges there. Not a moan escaped his lips. He grinned down at her, and she held her breath as she looped her hands hesitantly around his neck.

Again, he grinned. Broadly. His hands rested at the small of her back.

"What could I do to make your day better?" she asked, clenching her jaw so she didn't puke or something.

He laughed, a hoarse, sly noise. "Surprise me," he demanded.

Sito hesitated. She stood there, practically frozen to the very spot. She ran her finger down his jaw and he flinched. It was a tiny movement, but she saw it. Almost, she told resell helpfully. Just get him preoccupied enough so you can make your move.

He drew her in to an embrace and kissed her heatedly. His hands roamed around her slight body, and he held the small of her back. His kisses became more aggressive and Sito knew that that was Cardassian-custom. His lips pressed against hers furiously, and he pinned her against the wall of his office. She to cry- out of pain and disgust.

It disgusted her, that this was how Cardassian officers acted. Treating women with such disrespect, well, Bajoran women. Cardassian females were treated the same as men, in terms of military ranks anyway.

She longed to be with Merek, but she was lot going to forget Lupos. She needed justice.

His eager tongue force her clenched mouth open. He groaned with pleasure as their tongues met and danced, hers doing so reluctantly.

She almost fainted when she became aware of the mound that was clearly straining against the fabric of his right trousers. She closed her eyes and pulled away from him. Disdainfully, she cast her gaze down to the offending site and he caught her gaze. Her heart thudded in her chest. She stepped back, untangling herself from Necat's eager kisses.

His gaze fell on her chest, and as he looked down, she threw a punch at the back of his neck. He groaned in pain and fell to the floor. He began to wheeze and try to soothe his aching neck, but Sito only launched her foot pointedly at his groin and he doubled over. His eyes were glazed over in fear and he tried to catch her arm as she kicked him once more - in the chest. Necat fell to the floor.

He wasn't unconscious, though. He was only incapacitated. Sito ran to his desk and picked up the phaser pistol there. She fumbled with the settings, and - just as he was getting to his wobbly feet - she fired it. He collapsed. It was not the highest setting, so he wasn't disintegrated, but it was close.

She stared at the motionless alien for a while, shocked that she had actually done it. She put the phaser back on the desk. She bent down and checked his pulse, just to be certain. He was dead.

Now, though, she faced a new problem. How to get out.


	24. Finding What You Love

Merek missed Sito, and she missed him. He longed for her touch, to have her to his in his arms. He wanted to kiss her and gaze upon her once more.

He had never really been what one could call a patient men. Most Cardassians were pretty patient individuals, but not Merek. He had not only... lost someone who was part of the complement of captives - criminal or innocent, he did not particularly care whichever way it turned out to be - that he was supposed to be guarding. It angered him greatly.

He was not entirely certain which of the maelstrom of emotions he was experiencing was to blame for his current state of mind. He was afraid; afraid for Sito. He was nervous, also, but for his title. His name would be under severe stress. It was not really because of his seemingly odd relationship with Sito Jaxa, as bonds between officers and prisoners, regardless of that prisoner's race, were reasonably common. But, because of the fact that he had did not know where she was. A Cardassian - a damn overseer losing a prisoner, who was not only Starfleet but Bajoran, was basically unheard of. He had brought shame on his people and his homeworld.

Gul Merek shook his head. He paced up and down in his office. Every now and, he would sigh and mutter. He wondered for a long time where she was. Where she could possibly Bree. Then, it came to him. He murmured some expletive in frustration mixed with anxiety.

He called his first office, Wiko. "Dalin Wiko," he said calmly through the visual uplink.

On the screen, the Dalin nodded in acknowledgment. "Sir." His expression was totally bland, that of a true soldier. But, his stony facade was not so well held up. He knew his - and so many others' - superior was uneasy about something, and he wanted to know what it was.

"I have some... business to attend to," Merek explained.

Dalin Wiko looked to be judging him, weighing things up.

Merek clasped his hand on the desk in fitting front of himself. "While I am absent, you are to continue operations. No questions are too be asked regarding my whereabouts; should anything go wrong, I will inform you promptly."

The Dalin was silent, still considering his orders.

"Is that understood?" Merek asked the man harshly.

He nodded. "Yes, sir."

Merek had not really planned ahead. He was not a particularly organised Cardassian. But, he had never really had any need to be so. His men carried out every subtle one of his offers - without question, and, if someone did happen to question his judgement or leadership, Merek would have them dealt with accordingly. Nor, though, he was on his own. And, he guessed that things would probably be staying that for some time. That thought sickened him.

He took a shuttlecar and drove to the other side of the desolate, foreboding little world. Stepping out and ordering it to return to the depot, he began to hike his way through the desert-like terrain. It was not too hard for him. Being a Cardassian himself, he was used to the rocky terrain. He did not enjoy walking through the dangerous ground, but it gave him something to do. Something to preoccupy himself with. He needed that.

The hovercar, as used anti-gravity technology and not wheels or other conventional methods of transportation, could traverse basically all types of surface without trouble. However, the rocks were so jagged and the cliff edges so sharp, that using a hovercar was not so likely in Merek's situation.

He padded his way through the orange dusty ground, picking up his feet as he went. Curses escaped his mouth as he picked up the pace.

The air was harsh and he realised how much the Cardassian presence on the planet was harming the atmosphere. Dust entered his lungs. Cardassians were used to the intense heat and thick air quality, but those factors on the fourth world from the Cardassian star were something completely different. They were stronger. More powerful.

Merek was forced to clear his throat. He came to a small stream and forced himself to cast his gaze down. He met his reflection. Looking at the handsome, tall man, his hair ruffle from the howling winds and his eyes and face tired due to the pounding elements, and his usually majestic posture bent in tiredness, he was struck with an unpleasant thought. A consideration. Reconsideration.

What am I doing? he thought to himself. A Bajoran, Donal! Really? He shook his head in disgust. He turned away, his neat hair swaying in the wind. He started to charge back the way he came.

Someone yelped.

Merek snapped his head around, craning it over the landscape. He narrowed his eyes and focused intently. He heard the noise again, high-pitched, desperate. He walked in the direction of the noises, without a moment's thought.

Stepping over a ridge, he caught sight of a pair of legs. Continuing his path, he saw that the limbs were attached to a body. Not Cardassian. His forehead creased in a frown.

"Jaxa?" he asked, taking another step.

The body coughed. Merek hunkered down. It was Sito. He pulled her close, not even thinking. "Jaxa, what are you doing?" he asked her, his tone harsh.

She looked up at him, whimpered. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

He pulled her away from him and titled her head up to face him properly. "What for?"

"What I did," she sobbed into his chest. "I'm so sorry."

He held her close and stroked her hair away from her face. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone now softer.

She sniffed. "I ran away."

"From me?" he questioned, sounding hurt.

She shook her head vigorously. "No, no."

He held her gaze. "Then what?"

"From Necat."

He frowned. "Necat?"

She nodded slowly and sniffed. "I killed him."

Merek was silent. He knew the other overseer was dead, and had somewhat suspected Sito, but his thoughts had gone little further than superstition. He only held her to him, and they stayed like that for some time, Merek with his arms wrapped around Sito as they sat behind the ridge.

"I need to leave," Sito said.

Merek looked down at her, his arms still around her to give her more warmth. "No. You'll stay."

She shook her head and wiped her eyes. "I can't, Donal," she maintained. "I'll get killed."

Merek pursed his lips, thinking. "I'll look after you," he reassured her. "You shan't be in any danger."

Sito was not convinced. "I killed a Cardassian," she said insistently. She had never said that phrase before. It was true and had been ever since she turned fifteen during the Occupation, but she hated that it was true.

He was quiet for a moment. He was not friendly with Necat, and had never been so, but he was a fellow Cardassian, and Sito was a Bajoran.

"If you'll leave," he said, drawing a heavy breath. "I will accompany you."

Sito's head snapped up in shock, disbelief. "No, Donal. You can't."

"I can and I will," he replied bluntly.

Sito had her hands on either side of his face. She kissed his lips. "No, you can't."

He took her hands away and held them. "Don't argue with me. We'll get going in the morning. I have a shuttle pod. It will not be difficult for us to leave. No one will dare question me."

Sito sighed in defeat. "That's as maybe, but it'll be dangerous." Terror was in her eyes. "I won't let you be in harm's way. If they find me, then that's that." A tear slipped down her cheek. "I won't be able to return to Federation space, anyway."

Merek frowned. "You still want to return," he stated.

Sito looked at him and nodded. "I have to. My mission, its... complete. I must see Joret."

Merek nodded. "I understand, I think." There was nothing left regarding Cardassia for him now. He would be disgraced. He had fallen in love with a Bajoran prisoner. He had then managed to lose her momentarily. She had killed a high ranking Cardassian military official. And, now, he was about to flee with her. The massive thought process was cause enough for him to rub his temples.


	25. For Each Other

Sito stirred. It was not because of a pleasant reason, like she had had a pleasant sleep and was now well rested. No, it was negative. The harsh winds of Cardassia IV had been howling almost non-stop that night eerie screams of pain and terror pierced the air, the sounds related to oil refinery, ore extraction, and mining filled in the rest of the night's horrific melody. The temperature dropped dramatically during the blackness of night, yet when the side of the rocky planet faced the Cardassian sun, the atmosphere was scorchingly hot. Sito seemed to recall some prisoners ages ago discussing how their soup would be evaporated before their very eyes. And, of course, they would not be allowed another batch.

The cool air trickled down her neck and down her spine; into her core. She shivered, but the movement Woolf have likely been much more violent had Merek not been there. As it was when the two of them had decided to close their eyes and sleep the night away, leaving their escape until the following morning, the Cardassian had his arm around the Bajoran; holding her close and keeping her warm.

Detecting her movement, Merek awoke, too. Being Cardassian and having lived and worked on the fourth planet from the star for so long, he had pretty much gotten used to the wild temperature fluctuations. "What is it?" he asked.

Sito opened her eyes. She looked up at him and smiled. "I think... maybe... this was a bad idea, Donal," she stuttered, teeth chattering.

"You're cold," he observed.

She blinked, annoyed that he would not elaborate on her previous point. "You aren't," she chided.

He frowned, and then his expression regained neutrality. "I am accustomed to the climate," he reminded her.

"I mean it, Donal," she insisted. "We'll get caught out."

He shrugged and his nonchalance with the matter alarmed her. "What does it matter?" Before he could give her a chance to answer, he added, "After all, I am overseer... of this hemisphere. I have complete control. No one can tell me otherwise."

"I know," she agreed. "But, it won't only be you. It'll be me, too."

He considered, pursing his lips.

Sito pulled back, taking her not-well-rested head off his cuirassed chest.

"Still," he maintained, regarding her sternly.

She sighed, twiddling her thumbs. "I'm scared, Donal." Despite all her years living in the Occupation, of which she had survived the unbridled horrors, and the later time she had spent with Starfleet, Sito was scared. Scared not only for herself, but for Merek, and for Bajor. For Joret Dal.

He took her face in his rough hands. His expression softening, as Sito so liked it to do, he planted a kiss on her lips. Drawing back, he said firmly, "There is no need to be. I have told you." He smoothed her cheeks, still keeping eye contact. "Don't worry."

She nodded, but not convincingly so. "I know, I'll try. But, its easier said than done."

His lips curled up in a slight smirk. "Will you be all right if I went back to my office to get us some food?"

Terror spread across her face. "What...?" she started in a whisper. "There'll be food in the-" she broke off. "How are we to get off this... planet?"

He paused but quickly decided, "I have a personal shuttlecraft."

"There'll be food there, won't there?" she asked, hopeful. "Replicators, at least."

He shook his head severely. "No."

"No replicators?" she asked, wide-eyed. Why would a shuttlecraft, especially one that belonged to someone as important as Merek was, not have a replicator?

Again, he shook his head. "No. There is no need for them. Cardassia is a poor planet, as are most of its people."

Sito wanted to object; to interrupt. Bajor was poorer. Had been made poorer by the Cardassians. She held her opinions back, thinking it best.

"I will have to get nutritional items replicated at my office. Then, I shall bring them here," he explained.

"No," she murmured as he got to his feet.

He regarded her quizzically. "We'll starve."

Sito wasn't sure if that prospect terrified her more than the idea of being captured by Cardassians. Starvation was a long process, but execution usually was not. However, as she had to keep reminding herself whenever that particular dilemma came to mind, they were Cardassians. Their torture methods were supposed to be worse even than those employed by the Tal Shiar.

"Please don't leave," she begged, standing up also.

He looked down at her, set a hand on each of her shoulders. "I have to, Jaxa," he maintained.

"No..." she said in a small, disbelieving voice. She wanted to embrace him, but knew she had to remain strong. For a Bajoran - under any circumstances - to demonstrate colossal weakness to a Cardassian would be shameful to say the least.

He nodded. Sternly. So sternly that it unnerved her. "I will not be long." He reached out to run his fingers lazily through her hair. "Try not to draw attention to yourself. Patrols rarely come this way. That is no to say they won't, though, he continued." She sniffed. He pulled her close. Holding her head, he said gently, "I'll be back soon." With that, he stepped back. Before she could protest, he was off.

The guard looked confused. "Sir?" he asked, watching his commanding officer stride over.

Merek continued his amble until he reached the guard at the mesh gate to the complex. "No questions. Open the gate."

Not a moment did that guard waste with hesitation. He titled his head assertively and opened the gate. "Yes, sir."

Merek slightly bowed his head, acknowledging the young man's competence. He made for his quarters and took as many replicator rations as he could. He did not know where exactly he and Sito were to go - if their escape was even successful. He knew that he, himself, would likely have no trouble in getting off-world. It would totally different for Sito.

Stepping out of his spacious office, he took the time to remember his time there. He decided it was a complete waste of time. He didn't like the job. He hated it, he would go so far as to say.

A commotion broke his painful reminiscence. Before he could judge what it was about - probably just a group of prisoners squabbling over a drop of soup or a crumb of bread, he heard someone calling his name. His ears pricked up, registering the noise.

"Sir!" a disembodied voice said. It sounded desperate or keen or excited, but Merek couldn't tell which emotion contributed most to the as yet unnamed person's mood. "Gul Merek," there was that voice again.

Merek spun around, and left the replicator rations, not thinking straight. He followed the voice and was met with a familiar sight.

"Wiko?" he said, confused. "You are not on- oh." He remembered that the mostly inexperienced but largely competent officer now had longer shifts, as his 'replacement'.

"Sir," Wiko said quickly. "With all due respect, I think you ought to see this."

The overseer frowned. "See what?"

"This way, sir," was all Wiko said. He gestured to the exit corridor and then proceeded to walk in that direction. Merek duly followed.

"Wiko," Merek snapped. "What is going on?"

They turned a corner.

"Sir, you should see this," Wiko simply said, stopping in his tracks. As they both exited the complex in which Merek's office was, they reached the outside. The hot air rushed past them.

Merek's jaw dropped open. "Wiko. You-" he gave up.

He watched with unblinking eyes as Sito was dragged across the harsh desert ground.

Sito thrashed her arms about and tried to kick her captors, but she knew deep down it would be futile. A Bajoran woman against two Cardassian soldiers. And, she had handcuffs on. They bore into her sensitive skin even more so than the shackles she had to wear during labour. The guard held her firmly, one at each side. She was glad it didn't rain much on Cardassia IV, otherwise she would have been falling into not only rocks and sand, but mud and slime.

She looked up, but her blonde hair was loose and hanging over her eyes. Through the wild strands, she caught sight of Merek. "Donal..." she said weakly as she was shunted along.

He could only watch in pitiful, painful silence.

She tripped over a rock as she was hauled with more force, in the direction of the jailhouse.

She knew it meant death. Cardassian trials were not worth the time.

Merek could do nothing but watch. His silence caught the attention of the gathering crowd of workers.

"Get back to work!" he suddenly snapped at them, and the oppressed mass obeyed him.

Wiko quirked an eyebrow at him, but only discreetly. "Sir?"

"I demand to know what is going on," he snapped.

Wiko cleared his throat. "A patrol found her in the outback," he explained. "She is an escaped prisoner, sir. Surely you understand...?"

Merek shook his head angrily. "Of course I do," he quipped. "But, I am overseer. I do as I please." He turned on his heel and headed for the jailhouse. He was not going to lose her.

Wiko was hot on his heels. "Sir, not to speak out of turn, but what do you intend to do?"

Merek was not particularly close to his second in command, but he trusted him. One forms a good working relationship with those they spend so much time, but rarely anything more. He did trust Wiko; he had faith in his abilities. He had read through his report and personally appointed him as his first officer. Still, despite the evident rift, the younger man knew there was something between his commander and and the Bajoran woman.

Merek shot him a bemused look. "I- Look, don't ask any questions. You are in charge." He paused and then added pointedly, "Completely."

Wiko blinked, staring at him. "No, sir," he argued. "I cannot be. I am not experienced enough."

Merek approached him and sighed. He set a hand on his shoulder. "I have faith in you, Wiko."

"Sir," he, however, maintained. "What will happen to you? Where will you go?"

Merek studied him closely. "I will deport... the prisoner to a different penal colony."

"Why?" Wiko blurted out. "Sir," he added.

"She has involved herself with too much here."

Wiko frowned lightly but promptly nodded. "I understand, sir."

"I will complete the essential paperwork regarding your promotion soon," Merek elaborated.

"What of Gul Necat's death?" Wiko asked.

Merek pursed his lips in thought. "An investigation will no doubt be drawn up," he answered. "It has nothing to do with me."

Wiko regarded him carefully, but let it go.

Sito watched with wary eyes as a dark, shady figure entered the jailhouse. A shudder ran down her spine; the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. As they came closer to her cell, she couldn't help but shrink back a little. A Cardassian, no doubt, she guessed.

Yet, it was a pleasant Cardassian. She recognised his face; his perfectly sculpted cheekbones highlighted ever more by the dim, uneven lighting. "Donal!" she said in delight.

"Computer," he said assertively. "Remove force field."

"State command code," the computer system replied monotonously.

Merek said, "Merek-alpha-5-7."

"Authorised," the computer said and the invisible force field dropped. As soon as it had done so, Sito fell into his arms. As she looked up, she asked, "What's happening?"

"I understand your confusion," he acknowledged. "No one will ask any questions. I have given in my resignation."

"No," she said quickly. "You can't!"

He studied her curiously. "I'm sorry?"

She sighed. "I just-" she sighed again. She rubbed her hands up and down his shoulders. Looking up at him, into his eyes, she said, "I don't want you to throw away all of your life... for me." When those words had left her mouth, she instantly found herself wondering why she had said them. She was, after all, telling a Cardassian that they shouldn't cease their title of being head of a brutal, unfair, unjust, and probably illegal penal colony.

"I didn't want this job, I told you," he reassured her.

"You said you needed the money," she reminded him.

He frowned. "I did- I do. But," he said, bringing a hand up to stroke her face, "I would rather be with you." He drew her into a kiss, and then apologised as he handed her a pair of handcuffs.

She held out her hands and looked away as he fastened them around her wrists.

"We must go," he told her. "The transport is waiting."

"Transport?" she asked. "A shuttlecraft?"

He nodded curtly. "Indeed."


	26. New Beginnings on the Horizon

"Pre-flight sequences engaged," Sito told Merek as they both settled themselves into their respective chairs.

Merek threw her an inquisitive look. "You aren't on the Enterprise," he tried to remind her. "There is no need to be so formal."

Sito considered his words for a brief moment. She looked over at him and smiled sheepishly. "Yeah..." she said quietly. "I'm sorry, its just, its- it seems like so long since I've been in a shuttlecraft."

He nodded agreeably. He ignored that face that he was on a shuttle that was about to take off and leant over to the side, toward Sito. He took her hand and looked deeply into her eyes. "I know, but you'll be safe soon." His words were of comfort to her but he did appear a little... indifferent to it.

Sito nodded and pasted a more or less fake smile on her lips. "Don't you mean 'we'll' be safe?" she asked for reiteration.

Merek have a wry smile and leant forward further; kissed her cheek, and then resettled himself in his own seat. He keyed in the pre-flight commands and looked over at Sito.

"Do you want me to proceed with plotting our course?" the Bajoran asked him.

He thought for a brief moment, then swiftly nodded in response to her question.

So, Sito did as she was bidden. She carried out the necessary calculations and algorithms and told Merek when that was done. "We're ready to launch," she alerted him.

As the shuttle's launching boosters burst into life and the engines whirred, the craft lifted up off the ground. It guided as swift as a bird to the smoggy upper atmosphere, reaching the clearer air of the stratosphere and final reaching sub-orbital heights. When they reached the area defined as 'space', the almost gale-force winds associated with high altitudes of atmosphere were gone. Only the stillness of the cosmos was surrounding them now.

The past orbital height and soon were flying through the Cardassian system itself.

Sito began to get a little nervous. "How long will we be in... Cardassian space?" she then asked Merek.

He checked his display. "Not too long," he answered, "but it will be a few hours, at least."

Sito sighed in discomfiture. She didn't like the sound of that.

Merek noticed her worried expression, and so decided to try and rectify it. "I wouldn't worry if I were you," he reassured her. "Thought preliminary scans by Command will likely be carried out, the scans will pick up the shuttle's signature and see it is mine." He paused, then continued. "They shouldn't think twice of it."

That did reassure her... to some extent, at least. "I'll try not to worry."

He smiled and nodded defiantly. "Try and get some sleep," he suggested. "I understand these past days must have been hard on you." He didn't add the part about Cardassians being better at adapting to rougher environments than Bajorans were. "You should get some rest

Sito frowned and pursed her lips in thought. "I- I don't know, Merek," she admitted. "I don't think I'm tired."

"I am just saying you should try and rest," he iterated.

She nodded, thought. "There's a lot going on," she continued. "I mean, I don't..." Her voice was drowned out by a defeated sigh. So, she smiled sweetly at the Cardassian and relaxed in the chair. She set the back backward a bit and then snuggled up and closed her eyes.

As she tried to sleep, she kept worrying that she would be woken up by some foreboding noise; an alarm going off signalling enemy fire; the shimmer of a transporter beam; Merek's frantic voice telling her to wake up. Instead, she wasn't. She managed to get a peaceful slumber. The only thing that woke her up was Merek as he kissed her forehead gently. She looked up and couldn't help but smile. She sat up.

"How long was I asleep for?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

He thought. "Not long. Two hours," he suggested.

Sito made a nonchalant gesture. "Are we out of Cardassian space?

He nodded and instantly saw the relief in Sito's face. "Have been for about five minutes," he added.

"What course should I plot?" she queried.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I would have thought Federation space."

She nodded and another wave of relief brushed through her. She sighed, relieved. "I... Understood." She keyed in the appropriate coordinates."

From their present location, just off the Cardassian system, they were not particularly far away from the space occupied and governed by the Federation; less than a hundred light years. At warp five, the highest speed of the Cardassian shuttlecraft, it would take a few days to reach Federation territory.

Sito could do nothing except think of how soon she would be safe and free to do as she pleased in the Federation; her haven. Merek's haven.

Sito's peaceful state of reverie came to an end when she was forced to tell Merek that they were in Federation space. She turned her head slightly, to face him. "Merek, sensors say we are now past the Neutral Zone," she relayed to him.

Smoothly, but a little hesitantly, he nodded. Neutral Zone. He knew what that meant, what lay beyond it; the Federation. He swallowed but did not allow his weakness to be seen by Sito. He drew himself up and jerked his head to the communications system of the small Cardassian shuttle.

"Have we been noticed?"

Sito shook her head, studying the readouts. "No... not yet, anyway," she told him. Just then, a little blip on the subspace interferometer showed on the graph. Sito narrowed her eyes and nodded slowly. "Ye-ah, we're being scanned," she amended.

He stroked his ridged chin, musing. "Do we know who by?"

Sito shook her head. "No, but... there is no need to be anxious, Donal." She turned to face him fully.

He nodded and slightly bristled indignantly. "I am not anxious," he said. "I am only suspicious."

Sito frowned. "The Federation helped a Cardassian - one who was on our side before; Joret Dal - they'll not forsake you, Donal."

He nodded glumly, a little annoyed that he had been proven wrong by her.

"I can change the bandwidth," Sito then offered. "Try and narrow it so our instruments can get a clearer idea of what exactly the individuals scanning us are." She paused, awaiting his approval. When he nodded, she continued. "Then, we can work on the interpretation with more ease; it should be simpler to determine the scanner's origin." Federation scanners, just like their ships' propulsion systems, emitted very different energy patterns to those of other origins, like Klingon or Breen.

Merek nodded in swift agreement.

With the bandwidth narrowed, Sito was about to announce the scanning equipment's place of origin to Merek. "This is weird..." she began, uncertainty added to her voice.

"What is?" Merek asked, alarmed, and then he himself looked at the clearer readouts and saw that they were not exactly as clear as had been thought. "Cardassian?" he observed.

"And Federation?" Sito completed the sentence. "I'll try it again," she suggested. "This can't be right."

Merek said something under his breath, but Sito was too busy enthralled with the scanner anomaly to notice, but she would have heard a Cardassian curse.

"No luck," she announced. "Still the same. The signal is, for a moment, Cardassian, but then the origin clearly shows as Federation."

"It's definitely Cardassian," he said absently. "I'd know that signature anywhere."

Sito nodded fervently. "Same here. I don't see how I could mistake a Cardassian signal for Federation, though."

As confusion etched itself deep into the minds of the two, an alarm sounded in the cockpit.

"This is the Federation deep space station Deep Space Nine," the voice announced over the comm. It was smooth and husky and clearly was not Jean-Luc Picard's. It continued, "Identify yourself."

Sito jumped. She turned on their side of the comm system, despite seeing the nervous expression of Merek.

Merek drummer his fingers nervously on the console and stared at Sito as she proceeded to answer the voice's query.

"This is Sito Jaxa," she relied boldly, her forced authority overturning the promised tremors of fear in her voice.

The stranger who said they were from the space station was no longer just a voice, they had a face now. The visual link now accompanied the audio.

Sito's mouth was hanging open, her eyes wide as ever as she stared at the display screen. Starfleet uniforms. Definitely.

On the screen was a serious looking, dark-skinned man with a shaved head and partial goatee beard. Beside him was a woman, but not a human. She was beautiful, with dark brown hair and spots running down the sides of her face. Trill. Next to her was someone who Sito recognised. Miles O'Brien.

Merek was uncomfortable, as Sito could guess, but looked more or less unperturbed.

"This is Captain Benjamin Sisko of Deep Space Nine," the man declared.

Sito finally blinked, but kept her gaze focused on the screen. She cleared her throat for no reason but to buy herself some sort of recuperation time. "Deep Space Nine?" she asked, confused by the name.

"We are alarmed by your shuttle's readings," the man who called himself Sisko said. "They are in line with Cardassian specifications, and yet... you are Bajoran."

Sito nodded and swallowed. She felt her heart thud when she noticed that the captain had caught sight of Merek.

"Are you in need of assistance?" Sisko asked.

Sito nodded in agreement. "Please, if we could board your station."

Sisko turned to face the Trill woman and they conferred quietly for a short while. Behind them, another woman came up into view. She had flame-red hair and wore a saturated red uniform. Sito didn't have to regard her for long to see that she was Bajoran.

"What's this?" Kira asked her captain.

Sisko nodded to the viewscreen. "Sito Jaxa," she said, as if it were some sort of revelation.

With uncertain eyes, Sito watched the other Bajoran woman. "That's me," she said quietly, not sure if she was interrupting.

"Kira, who's Sito Jaxa?" the Trill scientist asked.

"You don't know?" Kira said, her eyebrows rising in slight surprise.

Dax gave her a wry smile. "Benjamin?"

He nodded, knowing what she meant. "Yes. Chief O'Brien, prepare to have the shuttlecraft docked."

The Chief of Operations nodded swiftly and set to work. "All clear, sir," he replied.

A loud clanking ring sounded as the craft docked with the dagger-like tendrils of DS9. Old Cardassian equipment meeting old Cardassian equipment.

"Jaxa, do you know what this is?" Merek asked as she stood up, catching her arm with his hand, looking up at her.

She shook her head in submission. "No. I think I'm just as confused as you are."

"I doubt it," he retorted. "I thought this... this station was Cardassian. It isn't. It's Federation, well, sort of." He frowned and have up.

Sito prized his hand off her arm and smiled; tried to smile. "Donal, come on. These people are Starfleet. You saw their uniforms. They will care for us."

Grudgingly, he got to his feet. He hesitated before stepping off the shuttle. He wasn't scared. He wasn't confused. He was suspicious.

Just as she drew his head down to kiss him, they were met by Captain Sisko and Major Kira.

"I am Sisko," he announced. He gestured to the woman at his side. "This is Major Kira."

Sito extended her hand for them both to shake, but Merek stood stock still.

"I can't believe you are Sito Jaxa," Kira exclaimed, smiling.

Sito nodded, a little bewildered. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Captain Picard's report details the incident involving you and Joret Dal. The report says you were killed in action." It was Sisko who answered.

"Killed-?" Sito stared at the two of them in alarmed amazement.

"This isn't Joret Dal," Kira said as she turned her dark eyes over to Merek.

"No, this is Donal Merek," Sito explained.

Kira raised an eyebrow and Sito couldn't blame her. Merek was Cardassian.

"Perhaps it's best if we continue this conversation in my office," Sisko suggested.

And so, they walked that way. Merek ignored the curious looks he got from those at Ops, but Sito relished in the realisation that she was home. Or, at least, with Starfleet people.

Sito and Merek sat in front of the captain's desk- the captain's Cardassian desk.

"May I ask: why are all the facilities and design-work on this station Cardassian?" Merek asked.

Sisko spread his hands on the dark desk. "This used to be called Terok Nor."

Sito's eyebrows shot up. The orbital ore processing station. Merek, too, recognised the name.

"I see," was all Merek said.

"I understand this will likely be... difficult," Sisko went on. "But, a report needs to be filed to Starfleet."

Sito nodded. She knew that was coming. "Of course," she agreed.

"Merek?" Sisko turned to the Cardassian.

Merek only nodded.

"Well," Sisko said, "Major Kira has requested to interview you. If you don't have any objections-?"

Swiftly, Sito nodded. "Of course."

Most Cardassian males would have relished the notion of being alone in a room with two attractive Bajoran women, but for Merek, there were a million other places he would rather be.

"Now," Kira began. "The original report, filed under a Captain Jean-Luc Picard says that you were lost when your shuttle went missing after you posed as a prisoner of a Cardassian defector, Joret Dal, and helped him return to his homeworld. That's correct?"

Sito nodded. "Yes, except, it didn't go missing. I was shot at. Out of nowhere, these phasers were being fired at my shuttlecraft. They were Cardassian in origin."

"That's all you remember?"

Sito shook her head. "No. I woke up." She paused, remembering the time. "On this planet, which I figured was the fourth planet in the Cardassian system."

"Cardassia IV?"

"The penal colony."

Kira's eyebrows drew together in perplexity. "What were you imprisoned for?"

Sito kept quiet, but gave Kira a look which let the Major know that there really was no clear reason.

Sito continued to describe her time on the dreadful planet to the Major; from meeting Merek to the upsetting, immoral circumstance of Lupos Mila. When it came to describe that, Sito saw the tiny veins in Kira's forehead start to pulse with anger and disgust.

Merek did not escape the Major's judgemental gaze. "You helped her leave?" she asked him.

He shifted in his seat, evidently uncomfortable. "Yes. It was the right thing to do."

Hearing that, Sito looked up at him and smiled so sweetly and so... thankfully that his stony expression softened. He regained it promptly, though.

"Will you tell Captain Picard?" Sito asked Kira.

The Major nodded. "It doesn't involve him directly, but you do still technically serve on the Enterprise, so yes."

Sito was happy with that.

****

"Joret Dal's here?" Sito exclaimed, relieved beyond belief.

Jadzia Dax nodded and smiled kindly. "Yes. Before you and Merek arrived, there were two Cardassians on the station. We didn't tell you before because the computers here, well... they aren't great. It takes time to analyse the manifest."

"Is the other one Mr Garak?" Sito pondered aloud.

"He owns the tailor's shop," Dax told her. "I can alert Joret Dal of your and Merek's presence aboard the station if you like."

Sito nodded. "That would be very kind of you."

As the Trill officer left, Sito turned and stepped into the small guest quarters she and Merek had been temporarily assigned. She went to stand beside Merek, who was watching the stars go by the Habitat Ring's large windows.

"You heard?" Sito asked him as she looped her hands around his broad neck.

He looked down at her and nodded.

"We can see Joret soon," she stated the obvious.

Merek said very little; only kissed her.

His silence got Sito's attention. "Donal," she said, her voice full of alarm, as she pulled away from his affections. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he said shortly.

Sito gave him a wry smile. "It isn't nothing," she countered. "If its this station. How it used to be Cardassian-?"

He spoke before she could finish. "It is not that," he simply said.

"It's something."

He broke away from her. "Let us just see Joret," he suggested.


	27. And it All Comes Crumbling Down

Sito stepped in front of Merek just as he made to leave. "Are you sure you're okay? she asked him again; she was not entirely convinced.

Merek nodded almost wearily. "Will you stop worrying?" He sighed, took her face in his hands. "I am fine. I have no reason to feel uncomfortable." Cardassians didn't feel 'uncomfortable'. They just got on with things.

Sito frowned a little. "If you say so, but, don't think you need to keep up this image in front of me," she told him softly.

His expression became thoughtful. He took his hands off her face, then took her hand in his. Sito smiled up at him, kissed his cheek. "We'll see Joret."

They exited the temporary quarters that they had been assigned to. As they strolled through the corridors, Sito's mind was captured by the myriad of species that passed by them. They encountered quite a few Bajoran, not only because the journey was relatively long, but because of the understandably large Bajoran presence on the station. The Bajoran officers nodded to Sito, when and if they passed, but she could see how uncomfortable they were when they noticed Merek, which was easy to do, owing to his size.

The Promenade actually hove into view some minutes after they had started hearing it. The triumphant shouts of 'Dabo!' and the equally loud yells of disappointment as someone lost filled the air. The clinking of glasses, giggles of Dabo Girls, complaints of Starfleet officers and worshipping chants of the Bajoran Temple filled out the rest of the auditory show.

Visually, striking colours were on show commonly. From the glitter on waitresses' dresses, the transparency of the glasses, the plain clothes of civilians and whirling Dabo displays, the eyes were not guaranteed rest.

Sito and Merek continued their walk through the Promenade, and eventually through Quark's. Merek had not particularly wanted to take that route - Cardassians didn't care much for 'scenery' - but Sito had insisted that they make the most of their time there. So, he agreed.

It wasn't easy for Merek, being surrounded by so many prejudiced, oppressed people, and that wasn't just the Bajoran. Even the Starfleet ones - some whom Merek did think he recognised from the Battle of Setlik III all those years ago when Cardassia was at war with the Federation, when Merek was only a young Gil. Also, it was not easy for Sito. She received numerous scathing looks from Bajoran. She learned to ignore them, though. She carried the same amount of pain as they did, but she had somehow seen past some of those rifts.

The noise and life of the heart of DS9 was still blaring when she kissed him. At first, Merek was not sure - subconsciously - how he felt about such displays of affection being public when Bajorans were the 'audience'. His love for Sito, however, reignited the fire inside of him and he relaxed his lips against hers. He felt her pull away; there would be time later.

As Sito pulled away, she caught sight of something flashing. It was just a sudden flash, a sharp movement. Nonetheless, it was there and she saw it. The sight should have fitted in with the happy background, but something had ensured that that did not happen.

Before Merek even knew what was happening, before Sito could warn him, that silver movement struck again. A barrel of a gun. A disruptor. She screamed as Merek's curiassed chest became a red mass, his blood seeping leisurely out of the wound, smoke rising from it.

Odo has darted out of his Security Office, had entwined the perpetrator - a Bajoran male - in his orange tendrils, and had commandeered the weapon.

People from Quark's, the Klingon Cafe, the other establishments on the Promenade, all took their turns at gasping out in shock, horror, dismay, confusion. Not a single one came to offer aid. They wanted to, would have, but a dead Cardassian at the hands of a Bajoran was, to some, momentous.

Sito knelt beside Merek, looked into his eyes. They kept rolling back into his head. She took his hand and grasped tightly. Time stood still. A tear slipped down her cheek but she neglected to wipe it away. Merek opened his mouth to speak, but Sito hushed him. She stroked his forehead, gently moving stray strands of wiry black hair behind his ear.

He looked back at her, but her own gaze kept flickering down go the wound in his chest. The disruptor was starting to begin its task. Merek bit his lip, preventing cries of pain, agonising pain, from coming out.

In all those short moments, Julian Bashir had hopped out of the turbolift and bounded over to the commotion. He joined the crowd of staring people, glanced and for a nanosecond and saw Odo restraining the alien perpetrator. He came through the crowd, hunkered down to Merek, scanned his injuries and muttered the preliminary diagnosis: "Massive internal bleeding, cardiovascular disruption, two ribs have been... disintegrated." He stared at the readouts. "What happened?" He looked at Sito, then quickly administered an anaesthetic to Merek, double-checked vital signs.

Sito blinked back tears. She remembered her Starfleet training and time in the Resistance. She continued to stroke Merek's pain-twisted, weary, yet no less handsome face, and quickly answered the Doctor's inquiry as best she could.

"We need to get him stabilised now," Bashir said with urgency. He slapped his combadge. "Bashir to infirmary, two to beam in. Now."


	28. Dust to Dust

Atoms reorganised themselves in Deep Space Nine's state of the art transporter beam. The infirmary came into view and nurses of multiple species ran over to Bashir and his injured patient. Merek was hoisted up onto a biobed; Doctor Bashir hovered over him dutifully.

"I need fifteen cc's of cortazone," he ordered and within barely a minute, a Bajoran nurse came filing in, holding the cortazone. She passed it to the doctor, obeying, but not without a strange look on her face. It was either because fifteen cc's was a hell of a lot of cortazone or because the patient she would likely end up having to treat was a Cardassian. It had been five or so years since the terrible times of the Occupation had come to an end, but there was still and probably would forever be, a massive rift between the Cardassians and the Bajorans. The oppressors and the slaves. So often it had been the Bajorans who were in need of help, so much help, but now the tables had turned. The nurse would never wish any hurt on anyone, she was not that sort of person, and would not have wished that the Occupation had been the other way round; that it had been her people who had so ruthlessly occupied a vulnerable planet populated by simple people.

Bashir studied the injected closely, then gave it to Merek. Bashir watched his patient closely and began to inspect the wound. "I need a stabilisation field," he called out to his medical personnel.

A Bolian porter set up the stabilisation field as required, then went on his way carrying out his other assignments. Bashir scanned Merek with the medical tricorder again; the ones in the infirmary were obviously more advanced than the handheld version of the device he had used on the Promenade what seemed like so very long ago to scan the Cardassian.

Bashir frowned at the display on the tricorder. Watching the vital signs closely, he shook his head.

He adjusted the medical force field and watched intently with hopeful eyes as the cortazone swiftly swimming about Merek's bloodstream started to get to work. It's main purpose was to settle the vital signs. Merek's heartbeat had slowed and his breathing was more controlled, but Bashir had to be careful not to let his patient's pulse grow too low. Too low and there might be no choice of reanimation.

Merek's eyes were closed, but he was still partially awake. The cortazone he had had injected into him was certainly beginning to have an effect. The painkiller exploited its multiple objectives and Merek soon began to feel a drowsiness washing over his senses. His heartbeat stopped.

"Doctor," a human nurse called out to Bashir. "Should we fibrillate?"

Bashir, for a tiny second, did seem to consider that suggested course of action but quickly he shook his head decidedly. "No. We must stem the blood flow first."

"If we don't get his heart beating again soon, we'll lose him," she warned him.

Bashir nodded. "I know that, but if we JumpStart cardiovascular activity, the blood will flow and it will have nowhere to go. He'll risk bleeding out here and now."

The nurse instantly understood. "Close the wound?"

"He's under so that's a definite," Doctor Bashir promptly agreed with her. He quickly conducted another scan on his Cardassian patient. A scan to check for evolving microbes and bacterial infections that could form as a result of sustaining such a massive open wound in the chest, no matter what species. "Infections appear negative," he reported to his personnel.

He would have to solder the wound shut, he decided, after of course stabilising and reestablishing a confident rate of blood flow. He had no time - Merek had no time - to waste waiting for nanobots to be programmed for the extremely difficult task of sewing up a grown man's arteries. Bashir would have to do it himself. As he prepared himself for what would likely turn out to be one of the hardest operations of his life, the nurses and junior doctors each cast him a mixture of confused, alarmed, proud looks.

"Sir, you haven't operated on a Cardassian heart before," the head nurse said advisedly to him, as if he needed reminded.

Bashir continued. "I'm the most qualified person to do so on this station. I have to try," he said simply.

uvuvuvuvuvuvuvuvuvuv

As the aorta - what Bashir, at least, presumed to be the aorta - was carefully knitted together, the sweat former continually on the doctor's brow.

"Vital signs stable," the nurse told him what he hoped he would hear.

"For now," Bashir said grimly. He gave Merek another anaesthetic and breathed a sigh of relief when blood flow gained its full ability. He took off his scrubs and told the nurse to prepare the patient for bone regeneration therapy. A Cardassian make had more ribs than a human male, but Bashir realised that Merek would still need all of his, so he had told the nurse to do the necessary things.

"Someone wants to see the patient," a porter told Bashir.

Bashir rubbed his temples wearily and nodded. "Show them in."

Sito followed the porter on nervous legs. She sauntered over slowly, guided by Doctor Bashir, who took her to the biobed on which Merek now lay soundly. She watched with wide eyes as multiple devices pulsed in conjunction with Merek's slow, yet stable breathing cycle. A rising and falling line which oddly reminded her of a subspace readout diagram represented Merek's heartbeat and pulse. She looked curiously at the numbers that decorated the sides of many of the medical displays. She had little idea of what they meant - Starfleet first-aid classes could only teach so much - but knew they were important.

"Will he be OK?" she asked in a small voice, too anxious to even look him in the eye.

Bashir hesitated, but did nod. "He... should be. I've done my best, and I'm confident he'll make a full recovery." He bit his lip to stop himself from saying anything more that might prove top uplifting.

Sito thanked him. She approached Merek's biobed, took his hand. She turned to face Bashir again. "Doctor, can I talk to him? Will he be able to hear me?"

Bashir nodded. "In a few minutes he should be coming out of the sedated state. It was inky a precaution."

Sito nodded, understanding.

"But," Bashir continued, and he saw the flash of worry return to Sito's face. "He can't get up, just yet. He's been through massive, multiple hour surgery, and needs two ribs replaced."

Tears in her eyes, she said, "Thank you, Doctor."

Bashir left Sito with Merek, in the cubicle around the biobed. She clasped Merek's hand tightly, but not too tightly. He looked so vulnerable from where she was. It was so strange to see him in such a state. To see a Cardassian, a Gul, in such a state of weakness and fragility.

"Donal?" she said tentatively.

No answer.

She said it again and this time he stirred. He opened his eyes slowly and panic rose in his chest. Where was he? His eyes searched around the room looking for a clue as to where he was, but all he saw was grey ceiling.

"Its OK, Donal," Sito said softly.

He turned his head, a painful movement, and saw her. "Jaxa?"

Sito noticed the grimace of pain as he turned to see her. "Don't move if it hurts too much."

Merek kept his gaze at her. "If to look at you means to suffer pain, I do not care."

A tear slipped down her cheek; Merek caught it.

"What happened?" he asked her.

Sito blinked back the rest of the tears and sniffed. "We were on the Promenade, on our way to see Joret Dal, when this..." She paused, almost disbelieving what she was saying. "Bajoran shot you."

"Shot me?" he repeated, an unreadable expression on his face; Sito couldn't decide if it was pain, amusement, frustration, confusion.

She nodded grimly. "I didn't want to believe it was true," she sniffed.

Merek laughed hollowly, and he wondered if it was because of the missing ribs that the doctor had kept mentioning.

"I thought you were going to die," Sito whimpered.

Merek hated not being able to physically comfort her. "I'm here now," was basically all he could find to say.

Sito nodded. "I don't know what I'll do if you... leave," she muttered glumly.

"Shh," Merek murmured. "I am not going anywhere."

Sito sniffed, feeling a little better. She kissed his forehead, closed her eyes.

"You don't have to stay here," Merek told her. He coughed and Sito was instantly alert.

"What is it?" she asked, looking scared.

Merek smiled thinly. "Its nothing... I'm fine."

"You do not have to stay here, Jaxa," he said again, and this time, a cough did not interrupt him.

She smiled sweetly, stroked his hair idly. "I want to stay here. If we see Joret, we go together."

Merek tried to nod, but gave up. "I'm glad."

Sito leant over and kissed his lips.

"When I am well," he continued, groaning in pain intermittently, "we can go where you want." He didn't much like the idea of going to Bajor, but he loved her, so overlooked that.

"We will," she said decidedly, smiling.

"I still don't know why you have put so much faith in me," he said.

Sito frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'm Cardassian," he simply said.

"I don't care," she countered. "Joret Dal was cause enough for me to see that not all Cardassians were what I thought they were. Then, when I got taken to that planet, to Cardassia IV, and you gave me the blanket, the food, the water... hope, that made it more clear."

Merek smiled a thin smile of guilt-ridden appreciation. "We could marry," he suggested quietly.

It scared her, the prospect. She was young and was not thinking of such things, but allowed herself to smile. "I'd like that." She smoothed back the stray strands of wiry black hair behind his ear and leant down to kiss him on the lips, her hand in his. She kissed his cheek.

"I love you, Jaxa," he said, his voice still weak.

She smiled down at him. "I love you, too."

As she drew away, she heard something. Or rather, she didn't hear something. The heart rate monitor had fallen silent, but a myriad of other noises sounded. Warnings. Sito was pulled gently away from Merek by a nurse, who uttered a flurry of words at her, of which Sito understood very little.

Sito found herself standing at the edge of the infirmary watching multiple nurses and Doctor Bashir work away at the fallen Cardassian.

She tried to work out what was being said, knowing that rushing over would do more harm than good.

BP dropping... Multiple organ failure... How could this happen?... A disruptor?... SATs sixty seven percent... We're losing him... I'm sorry.

Sito blinked and stared at Doctor Bashir vacantly. "What?" The word stumbled out of her mouth. Her brain wouldn't register a response.

Bashir nodded gravely, waited for the equipment to be cleared away, led Sito to the biobed. It had only been a few minutes, it seemed, since she had been talking to him. A sob escaped her throat and her hand shook as she brought it up to her wet eyes.

"I'm so sorry," the doctor was saying. "Disruptors leave irrrperable damage. The heat discharge left a hole in his heart, which we did manage to repair, but the plasma was uncontrollable. I'm so sorry. We did everything we could." He paused. "We had no idea what even a low-level disruptor beam would do to anyone, let alone a Cardassian." With the weapon understandably banned in the Federation, it was particularly hard for doctors such as Bashir to get access to files and information concerning the topic.

Most disruptors worked on the cellular level, tearing apart the very building blocks of living things. The pain of death in such a way would be excruciating, but because of the great amounts of cortazone that had been administered to Merek, it was unlikely he would have felt that much pain; at the very least, a lot of pain.

Sito's bottom lip wavered. She kept quiet, still.

"You can see him, if you like."

Sito nodded shakily and murmured a 'thank you' to Doctor Bashir.

She watched with empty eyes as he left her alone. Like before, she sat beside the biobed but had no one to dry her tears. Se sniffed and tried to cease crying. It wasn't easy.

She sat in silence for some time, watching Merek as he slept his eternal sleep. The air of the infirmary seemed to still around her. "Donal, why did you have to leave me?" she whimpered. "Why?" She sobbed into his chest. She had felt so many people's deaths, but Merek was different. She loved him. He loved her.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," she heard doctor Bashir's kind say all of a sudden. "But there is someone else who wished to see Merek."

Sito wiped her aching eyes and watched disbelievingly as someone walked into the room.

"Joret?" she said.

He came closer, clasped his hands behind his back. "I'm sorry to hear about Donal."

A slight frown creased Sito's forehead as she considered his words and looked down at her hand interlaced with Merek's, ignoring how cold it was.

"He was your friend..." she said meakly, thinking twice before adding 'too' to her sentence. "Don't apologise."

Joret agree, but shook his head slightly. "He was my friend, but he is more to you. You are more to him."

Sito smiled thinly, but thankfully, at Joret.

"The doctor told me what happened," Joret went on, and Sito nodded absently as she kept her gaze on Merek, stroking his hand gently.

"They said it couldn't have been prevented," Sito added in a small voice. "That once he had been shot, that was it..." Her voice faded out into nothingness.

Joret nodded in agreement. "I know," he said gravely. "J- Sito?" he began, his tone changing.

She looked up at him. "Yes?"

"I wanted to say thank you for what you did," he explained. "Posing as my prisoner, so I could get home."

She nodded absently, touched Merek's cold forehead and gently ran her finger down his eye ridge. Another sob broke loose.

"If I know Donal," Joret said. "He would not have wanted you to be upset." When Sito was silent, he continued. "From what I have heard from the personnel here, he cared a great deal about you. He loved you, and you were going to give him the chance of another life."

Sito listened intently to his words and smiled. "Thank you."


	29. Genesis

Sito regarded Joret with teary eyes as he started to leave the infirmary morgue. She hoped her gaze would be cause enough for him to stay where he was, but her plan didn't really work all that well. He only gained a sort of bewildered expression, but it was nonetheless thoughtful.

Joret, thus, turned to face her properly. He studied her face and waited patiently for her to speak.

She wondered what to say. Her lover had just died; she was not thinking too much about how to string a sentence together. "Joret," she began quietly, in a small voice, "please, stay."

He stood stoically for a short while after her words had been spoken, but soon grew lax and sighed. He shook his head, and Sito frowned lightly, evidently confused. "I have a shuttle in the bay," he said bluntly.

Sito's frown grew into a look of sadness. She didn't dare look around the morbid surroundings which enveloped her. "A shuttle?" she repeated.

Joret nodded. "I'll likely miss it," he said.

"Where are you going?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper against the hum of DS9's stabilisation thrusters and passing cosmic wind.

Joret looked uncomfortable. "To Reticuli III," he explained, looking plaintive.

Sito ran that through her mind. "Is that a colony planet?

He nodded slowly. "Yes. Only small, but I hear there are a few Cardassians there," he elaborated. "As well as other species."

"Must you leave now?" Sito asked him sorrowfully. She couldn't quite believe - after all she had been through - that she was actually even asking a Cardassian to stay with her, in the same room, a bit longer. Of course, Joret himself and Merek had shown her that not all Cardassians were to be feared, but nevertheless, she was surprised when the question left her lips.

Joret shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking down at the floor. "I-" he stopped, picked up his reply, "The transport isn't due to leave just yet, but I wouldn't want to spare too much time."

Glumly, Sito nodded, managed to smile. "That's all right."

Joret hesitated, then sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck and approached her. "I can stay a little while longer," he said. And, with a glint of something in his eye - Sito couldn't quite tell what it was; sorrow, guilt, humility - he added, "it's the least I can do."

With that, he stood beside her and the two of them walked out of the morgue. The particles of air which surrounded the dead had left them, but Sito still felt like she was choking.

Joret noticed her discomfort and wondered what to say. "Do you wish to go to Quark's?" he asked. "It is owned by a Ferengi," he said derogatorily, "but I hear the service is not too bad."

Sito wanted to smile, but only said quietly, "No, thank you." Quark's was too near where Merek had been shot. Going back there in such little time would bring that time back to her.

"My shuttle leaves in an hour or so," Joret told her. "But it will likely leave sooner. The Reticuli system is forty light years away."

Sito nodded in understanding. "Oh, well-"

"No, it's all right. You helped me get home, remember. I would have likely been caught, tried and executed," he said, his tone dropping with each word. "We can go to my quarters, if that's all right with you."

She considered it, then nodded in agreement.

Joret's quarters were only provisional. Thus, they were furnished in keeping with the usual Spartan Federation style. Only the bare necessities regarding furniture, with plan items, and a standard food replication unit in the corner, with sleeping and bathing quarters towards the back.

Sito walked in behind Joret and sat on the Federation couch.

"I was surprised to see you here," she said.

He nodded wisely. "I knew it used to be a Cardassian station," he explained. "It's now Federation-maintained, along with the Bajoran Provisional Government, so I assumed it would be an ideal place for someone like me to go."

"Someone like you?"

"Yes." He nodded, choosing his words carefully. "I am not Starfleet, though I do involve myself in such things. I am Cardassian by birth and by upbringing, but I don't fit in. I don't see how I could conform to Cardassian ethics, as it were."

She nodded, trying to understand. "I see." She looked around the room. "Merek and I," she said, fighting to retain her stoic expression, "we came to the station not by choice, really."

"Oh?" He cocked his head to one side.

She continued, trying not to mention Merek's name too much. She wouldn't cry. "I take it you already know much of what... happened?"

He nodded.

She picked up her point. "Our instruments, on the shuttle, showed that we were being scanned, and we saw the transmission was Cardassian."

"It was DS9," Joret said with a realising nod.

Sito agreed. "We were asked to dock and, well..."

Joret's smile told her she needn't continue.

"If you like," Sito ventured, "I can come with you to your transport ship."

Joret nodded gratefully, and they made for the shuttle docking point.

Joret walked over to the docking area, but turned. "I hope I do see you again," he said to her.

Sito's heart was still heavy with sorrow; she had seen her lover shot by an oppressed, prejudiced member of her own race, heard him as good as propose marriage to her, and then witnessed his death. Her expression reflected what she felt inside, but she was happy for Joret. "So do I."

Joret hesitated before he boarded the transport, giving Sito enough time to approach him and hug him goodbye.

"Goodbye, Joret," she said softly, watching him go.

"Goodbye, Jaxa," he replied as he stepped into the transport. "And, thank you."


End file.
